The Flame and the Shadow (A Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)
by pottiehead101
Summary: Lia's life is about to get that much more messed up. Struggling to accept her changing feelings towards a certain blond asshole is not the only thing on her plate, with the Dark Lord rising again and all. Join Lia as secrets and betrayals are revealed in the sequel to 'The Snake and the Dragon'.
1. Prologue

_**2nd of May, 1998**_

It was one of Mark Twain's quotes that stuck with Lia that day. He had once said that "a man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."

She wasn't sure how much those words applied to her. For one, she had been born a girl, not a man. For the other, although she had tried to live her life as vividly and excitingly as possible, she couldn't be sure if her meagre seventeen years of existence counted as 'living fully'.

And yet, standing on the wretched field that hour, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a red hot drum, she had thought that never before had she been so prepared for what was to come after - after her heart had stopped beating and her soul had all but left her body, and the world kept on breathing, kept on moving without her. After she left her friends, her love behind.

She found that she was not afraid.

Yes, her body trembled and silver gathered in the corners of her eyes. But fear did not grip her, because she knew that death was a destiny that had been marked on her since before she could talk, a destiny that she and Harry shared, no … a future that crept at all their lives.

Voldemort had been slipping his lies and deception into Draco's ear, assuring him of the rewards he would reap if he came to his side, of the mistakes that would be forgiven, although not forgotten. They were snake-like words, so full of promise that they enraptured your senses.

Nonetheless, Draco's face had been stormy. His eyes steel. The silver had met hers, softening slightly as they raked over her, and they whispered a silent apology, so full of love that they caressed her heart.

"No," he had said, the voice unwavering, strong and steady. "Never."

Those two words were all it took for the Dark Lord to draw out his wand. Lia knew, before Draco could even grasp what was to happen. Her mind was connected to Voldemort's, a chain binding them together. She knew the spell that was to come out of that yew wand.

Bracing herself, she slammed the boy to the ground, whose eyes were still wide with surprise.

"Avada Kedavra."

The spell that had been directed at Draco, the killing curse, hit her straight in the chest.

She was flung backwards into oblivion.

* * *

 **A/N:**

This is the sequel to 'The Snake and the Dragon'.

Hope you like it! And please review!


	2. Manors and Bowling

_18th of June, 1994_

"Tea?" Narcissa Malfoy asked. A teapot daintily hovered in the air, and landed with a thud on Lia's right side. "Sugar?" Another jar filled with white grains floated to her left side.

"No," Lia muttered, "… thank you." She was unnerved.

Narcissa had been trying to mask her permanent scowl into something kind, something almost … motherly, for the entire hour. And Lia couldn't, for the life of her, understand what the woman was even thinking or doing. She looked as if she was struggling between screaming at Lia for assaulting her husband in Diagon Alley, and embracing her, like she was some long lost daughter.

"I insist."

Lia picked up the pot and poured some into her cup. She wasn't accustomed to such formalities, and her hand slipped slightly, the dark liquid splashing onto the lavish table cloth. She hastily wiped at it with her napkin, hoping that no one had noticed.

Narcissa cleared her throat. "So," she said, delicately spreading out cream over a scone, "I take it that you are enjoying being in Slytherin?"

"Yeah, it's … delightful."

"Slytherin is the house of victors," said Lucius Malfoy suddenly, shocking Lia a little as he hadn't spoken for about half an hour. He frowned at his son, "Isn't that right, Draco? Slytherins do not fail."

Malfoy gulped and bobbed his head fractionally. "Right." He looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt herself.

"Miss Agorios," Lucius said, just as suddenly as before, piercing Lia with his gaze. "What do you think of Draco?"

Lia burnt her tongue on the hot tea and choked. Malfoy wacked her on the back, simultaneously giving her leg a well-aimed kick beneath the table. She glared at him.

"He's just … just … great," she said finally, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Great."

"You're friends then?"

Lia winced, and Malfoy kicked her again. "… I guess so."

"Good." Lucius went back to reading the Daily Prophet, trim fingers flipping through the pages.

Narcissa tried to make more painful small-talk. "Are you excited for the Quidditch Cup this summer?"

Lia nodded. "Definitely. Harry's always been more into it then me but …"

At the mention of her brother, Lucius' fists clenched and he grimaced, whilst his wife paled and stopped just as she was about to place the jam scone in her mouth. It was as if the whole Malfoy family thought that Harry was the devil.

"… I like it all the same," Lia finished.

"I don't see why you need to live with that boy," Lucius hissed. "A witch of your calibre needn't associate with such filth."

There was a silence, as the words sank in.

"Filth! Who are you calling filthy?" Lia stood up from her spot and slammed a hand against the table. "Watch how you speak about my brother!" she spat out.

Malfoy rose as well, and made an odd coughing sound in the back of his throat, that sounded vaguely like a muffled laugh. "Father. Perhaps I should show Lia the manor?"

Lucius seemed to be holding back a curse. "Yes," he replied curtly, after the blood had left his face a little, "I'm sure Miss Agorios will be very impressed … must be significantly better than her muggle hovel," he muttered.

Lia scowled. "Why you –"

Malfoy tugged her out of the room.

"Aren't you scared of him?" he said to her, as he continued pulling her down a marble paved corridor.

"No," she scoffed. "He's just a mean twelve-year-old bully trapped in a rich man's persona."

He shook his head. "You should be scared a little. My father won't hurt you in particular, but he is rich, and he has a shitload of connections."

"Is it always like that in your house?" Lia asked abruptly.

"What do you mean?"

"Lucius and Narcissa."

"Father's always been about the same. Although he doesn't usually get pissed like that if you're not an idiot. Unlike someone," he shot Lia an accusing glare. "Mother is different," he paused, contemplating, "… she ... cares."

"They both seem so -," she struggled for the right word, "- cold. So distant."

"What did you expect? Warm hugs and unicorns vomiting up rainbows everywhere? Don't make me laugh. Father's wealthy for a reason. He was a Death Eater for a reason. And I'm an asshole for a reason."

"You're not an asshole," she said automatically, and instantly regretted the words. Malfoy looked at her as if she'd just told him that the sun had turned blue. "At least, not as much of one as you used to be."

"Careful, Lia. That almost sounded like a compliment. And you don't want people to think you're getting soft, do you? Especially after you've called me that name to my face, only about a hundred times." He pointed distractedly at something in the distance. "That's a peacock."

"Wow," she said sarcastically. "Never would have guessed."

He ignored her. "They're albino. We bought them because they're rare and expensive – like the Malfoys, sort of. There's some decent hedges over there, I suspect the squib gardener cut them this morning. And we have some priceless eighteenth century paintings if you like that sort of thing."

"I'm good thanks."

Malfoy sighed, exasperated.

"How can you stand living here?" Lia said, looking around. "I mean, of course it's stunning, it's a bloody mansion for crying out loud! But it's too clean, too perfect. I can't imagine having any fun here … you know? Like, running screaming down the corridors, playing in the mud, flying off swings, jumping in puddles – that sort of thing."

"None of what you mentioned sounds remotely fun," he deadpanned.

"What did you even do before Hogwarts?"

"I flew on my broom. I played nicely with the pureblood children my mother handpicked for me. I met Crabbe and Goyle and … Don't," he groaned, seeing her expression. "Don't look at me like you're trying to do some fucking psycho-analysing voodoo crap on me. I was a spoiled kid who basically got anything I ever asked for. Don't tell me your life with that muggle family was any better?"

"No," Lia said. "It wasn't. I lived in a laundry room with a leaky roof, so I had to sleep with an umbrella opened above my face. But I had Harry. And that made everything."

"Spare me your sisterly love," he stomped off. "Do you want to look at the paintings or not?"

"Not really," she replied, but followed after him.

"That's Abraxos Malfoy," he pointed at an oil painting of an intimidating man in a suit. "My grandfather. He used to have a pretty big role in the ministry, until he died of dragon pox."

"How unfortunate," said Lia. "He looks like a creep."

"Don't you know to not speak badly of the dead?" He showed her another cold-faced stern-eyed man with the same shade of blond hair. "That's Septimus Malfoy. He was an advisor for the Minister of Magic. And that's Brutus Malfoy. He was –"

"I honestly don't give two fucks."

"You should care. The Malfoys have been one of the most prominent wizarding families for about a thousand years now. In the history books, one of my ancestors Armand Malfoy came to England with William the Conqueror and –"

"Did the book also say that the Malfoys are all annoying gits? Cause, Binns always said that historians must stay true to the facts."

"Ha. Ha."

"Can't we do something else?"

"Like what? Do you want more tea with my parents?" he said sneering, and rolled his eyes when Lia wrinkled her nose.

"No, I …" she checked the time. "I need to be getting back now. Harry will be wondering what's taking so long."

He looked almost a little disappointed. "See? It wasn't too bad was it? Don't you regret being stubborn and dragging on with your stupid fight to not come here? I told you that you weren't going to get kidnapped."

"It _was_ bad," said Lia. "I spilt tea all over your mum's expensive tablecloth, by the way … and I think I still hate your father."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't everyone? … Come on, I'll find mother and she can Apparate you back. Grab your luggage."

It was another painful trip to Pivet Drive. Obviously, Narcissa had never been to her Uncle's house before, so they'd had to settle for a building she knew, that was around a twenty-minute walk away. Whilst feeling dizzy from Apparating, there had also been a distressingly awkward silence, and neither had spoken a word.

"Miss Agorios," Narcissa said finally in her high-pitched, posh voice. "I –"

"Lia."

"Pardon me?"

"Lia. Call me Lia. Miss is way too fancy."

"Lia, then," she continued. "I just wanted to tell you … to be … gentle with my son."

"Me?" Lia scoffed. "Gentle?"

"He's a good boy. Lucius and I have tried our best to raise him up as well and fine as we could, but my husband sometimes has a penchant for being too … cruel, in his methods. He only wants the best for Draco though, we only want him to be safe. He's a good boy," she repeated. "And I can tell he has taken a special liking to you."

"Yeah right. He likes me about as much as he likes his owl's poo."

"Draco's never been good at showing emotion, but I …" she trailed off and changed the topic. "You're of pure blood. It would be a pleasure if you visited as more often."

"Okay," Lia willed herself to not burst into laughter. "I'll ... try to."

"I hope you will. Goodbye then, Lia," Narcissa said. "I wish you well." She gave a small tilt of the head, said, "Until we meet again," before turning around and Apparating away with a flash of colour.

Lia shook her head at the strange scene, and grabbed onto her trunk, towing it away by the handle, as she marched down the street towards Pivet Drive.

* * *

It was two weeks later, in Diagon Alley, that Lia met with Draco Malfoy again.

"Malfoy," she said, goggling him, as he shook off his cloak, revealing a black shirt and matching pants, the monotone colour making his fair hair stand out like a beacon of light. "What are you wearing?"

He gave her a look that read are-you-stupid. "Black."

"I know that! You look like an eighteenth century vampire. Either that, or a goth kid threw up all over you."

He grinned, unashamedly. "As if you don't think I look sexy. Besides, I didn't really know what constitutes 'muggle attire'."

Lia shook her head, pretending to gag. "If only your brain was as big as your head. Move then. I don't have long. I told Harry that I was looking around for new robes. What did you tell Lucius and Narcissa?"

Malfoy's grin widened. "They think we're having a lovely date together at Witchy Wonders Café."

"Date!" Lia spluttered. "You're just asking me to murder you, aren't you?"

"This is sort of a date. It is just the two of us, isn't it? Very romantic."

Her eyes almost burst out of her head. "No! It's definitely, one hundred percent, _not_ a date! This is an … an educational lesson! I'm not going to lose that bet to the likes of you. And also, I guess I'm trying to stop you from being so prejudiced and ignorant, before karma kicks you in the ass! Or I do!"

He laughed. "Whatever you say. Well, hurry up. Didn't you just tell me you don't have long?" He gave her a shove in the back, and they set off again, out of the Leaky Cauldron, towards Charing Cross Road, a street inhabited by Muggles.

"Look at them with their cars," Malfoy whispered to her, casting a scornful eye. "So primitive. Broomsticks are much more flexible and handy. How would you even take something take big along with you? I can't imagine being able to put it in your bag."

Lia gave him a blank look. "You drive. That's the whole point. You don't need to take it with you, it takes you where you want to go."

"How?"

"The engine, and the fuel, and the wheels, and it spins and … Oh, I don't know the exact explanation! If you're so interested, then take Muggle Studies," she snapped.

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "Muggle Studies is for blood traitors and mudbl-" he looked at Lia's glare, "-Muggle-borns," he finished, sighing.

"We're here," Lia said, pointing at a large, modern with glass windows and a polished sign over the entrance that read, 'Charing Mall'. The floors were made of white marble, with bright, iridescent lights; and shops dotting the inside, that were filled with blaring posters and loud music.

"Tacky," Malfoy said. "Muggles have no class."

Lia hit him on the shoulder, and he gave a little grunt of protest. "Shut up. No one likes a pessimist." She pointed at a row of escalators. "We want the top floor."

"If the Slytherins saw me now," he grumbled. "This is disgraceful."

"Don't complain," Lia said. "I went with you on that stupid lunch with your parents. Do you know how many times I wanted to _kill_ myself during the course of those three hours? By the way, did your mum manage to get the tea stain out of the tablecloth?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Dunno. We have lots, so mother throws them out and replaces them every few days, anyway."

"Of course you do. Meanwhile, children are dying of malnutrition."

He shrugged again. "Lia. Do I have to get on this thing?" Malfoy eyed the escalators, as if waiting for them to start snapping at him. "They look unsafe. They're like stairs … but they move weirdly."

"Unsafe?" Lia snorted. "All you have to do is stand on them, and they'll transport you up."

"Muggles must be so lazy," he muttered, "Can't even walk up stairs." He still looked distrustful, but followed after her as she stepped onto the escalator. "Lia," he said again, "Why are they staring at me?"

Malfoy pointed at a flock of pretty girls, who were giggling and whispering behind their hands. They were indeed ogling him. "Your clothes are odd," Lia replied, and sent a cold glare at Malfoy's admirers, who immediately looked away with pink cheeks. "We're here," she said brusquely.

He peered in through at the dim lights, and heard the grunge music playing inside. "This is bowling?" he said, frowning.

"Get off your high horse. It's fun."

"I promise you, I will never in a thousand years, think that this is fun."

"Prepare for a thousand years to pass then," Lia said, her attention diverted as she strode up to the ticket counter.

"Two tickets, please."

"Shoe size?" the bored looking girl at the counter asked, whilst she flicked through a magazine with a dangerously long nail. The shiny badge pinned to her polo shirt read 'Amy'.

"Women's six and a …" Lia turned to Malfoy and whispered, "What size shoe do you wear?"

"How am I supposed to know? Mine are all custom made to fit my foot."

She sighed. Malfoy was pretty tall for his age so … "Let's try a size eleven." She chucked the shoes at him. He caught them in his hand and examined them distastefully.

"… You do know how to tie your shoelaces, right?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped back, scowling, "What, do you think I walk barefoot around Hogwarts?"

"Hurry up then."

She drew a fifty dollar note out of her pocket and put it on the counter, but Malfoy shoved it back in her hands. "I'll pay," he said.

"Since when do you have Muggle money?"

"Precautions," he said simply, and Lia gave a rumble of protest, "I'm richer than you, so it's only right."

She pursed her lips. "Fine then, Mr. Millionaire." Malfoy grinned and sat himself down on a couch nearby to swap his shoes.

When he left their hearing radius, Amy finally glanced up from her magazine, and said in a drone, "He's cute." She blew up a wad of pastel pink gum in Lia's face. "How'd you get him?"

"Hell decided to curse me," said Lia, giving the girl a glower, before she stomped off.

"Lia. I hate this," Malfoy complained.

"Shut the hell up, and grab a ball."

"How do I pick it up? It's slipping." He reached for the sphere again, and his hands slid off the varnish.

"No, idiot!" she said exasperated, "See those three holes? Stick your thumb in the big one, and then your ring and index in the other two."

"That looks awfully wrong."

"Can't you close your mouth and do it?"

"Now what?"

She paused. "Wait, I'll show you first. Easier that way." She scanned around for the perfect ball, and gingerly picked up one that weighed eleven pounds. Walking forwards to the white line, she swung her arm out and back in an arc, and let go in mid-air. The ball spun around and headed violently towards the pins.

"Strike!" she cried, smiling and pumping a fist in the air.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm awesome. Okay. You're turn."

"I'm not sure I want to." Malfoy scratched his jaw.

"It's fun."

"Looks very meaningless. What's the goal again?"

"You aim to knock down those pins," Lia replied with a dramatic gesture.

"Why can't I just walk up and bash them down with a bat then?"

"That's not the point."

"That's stupid."

"Just go."

He swallowed and got up. The ball looked dangerously loose in his grasp. Copying Lia's actions, he swung his hand back and out again, and let go. The ball rolled into the gutter, looking very sad and lonely.

"Did I lose?" Malfoy asked, scrunching up his eyebrows.

"No. But you didn't do amazingly. Try again. This time position yourself properly, so that you're in line with the centre. And flick your wrist up a little when you let go. Like this."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy said, saluting her with his other hand. She rolled her eyes.

This time, although his stance was much better, his fingers slipped out of the ball far too early, and with the momentum, it flew backwards through the air at Lia, and landed with a thud on her toe. There was a short silence.

"FUCK!" she cursed, grabbing onto her foot, her face contorted with pain.

"Crap," Malfoy said, running to her, his face pale, "I'm sorry. I-I … I told you bowling wasn't my thing! What do I do now?" He was panicking. "Should I just risk it and use my wand?"

"No!" Lia hissed, "I'm fine. It's only a bowling ball. I've got dittany in my bag, so just help me to the bathroom … and be quiet, you're making a scene."

Malfoy looked around at the Muggles who had stopped whatever they were doing to watch them. He grinned wickedly at Lia, and with one swoop of his hands, picked her up in his arms.

"Let me down!"

"I'm helping you to the bathroom," he said innocently.

"Everyone's staring!"

"Only because I'm so attractive. Besides, they're Muggles, who cares?"

Lia thumped hard on his chest, but they'd already reached the entrance to the girl's toilet, and he set her down. Lia swore at him, and hobbled inside. Five minutes and a couple of drops later, Lia walked out again, her toe as good as new.

"You're actually a moron," she snarled at Malfoy.

"Don't blame me," he pointed at Lia, "I had a bad teacher."

"Let's just go."

"Well that was a failure," Malfoy said, as they returned to Diagon Alley. "All I learned from that experience was that Muggles have silly, risky games like bowling."

Lia snorted. "Bowling's not risky … if you have half a brain, that is."

He looked a bit offended. "You could have easily dodged that ball."

"Well, sorry that I had the misplaced faith that you wouldn't be so bad as to chuck it backwards at me!"

"Never again," Malfoy said, buttoning up his cloak again. "That was awful."

"Which was sorely your fault."

He suddenly smirked at her. "Wasn't it wonderful to have the pleasure of my company though?"

"No."

His smirk turned into a smile. "Bye, Lia," he started to walk away, but turned back, "Are you coming to the Quidditch World Cup?"

She nodded. "With Ron's family."

"The Weasleys? Those blood-traitors? How the hell did they manage to get tickets? You would much rather come with me. We'll be in the top box with Cornelius Fudge."

"I'd rather not voluntarily spend more time with Lucius."

"Fair enough. See you there then?"

"See you," Lia muttered, and she walked off to find Harry again.

* * *

A/N:

Hi everyone! Thank you for reading this chapter! I know I was going to do laser tag before, but I wasn't completely sure that they'd have that sort of technology in the 1990's, so I went with the safe option of bowling.

Hope you enjoyed! And please review :)


	3. Quidditch Cup

The room was dim, the floor made up of panels of wood that were encased in a thick layer of soot, holes breaking out here and there on the ground where the pressure had grown too much for the paving to bear.

Lia squinted, trying desperately to make out the faces in the scene, but it was blurred, as if someone had placed a thick sheet of clear plastic over her eyes. She heard voices, and realised, as her stomach dropped, that she recognised the owners. One spoke in a cowardly whimper, the other in a cruel shrill hiss.

"… And the girl, M-my Lord?" Pettigrew asked, his face looked like a blur of pale white to Lia.

"She must be there," Voldemort said, "She is a piece to the puzzle. I have suspected … I suspect that there is something deeper about who she is. If I am correct, then she holds a large part in what is to happen, for I have left," he smiled coldly, "something of my own in her."

"Your Lordship is still determined, then?" It was barely a whisper.

"Certainly I am determined, Wormtail. See to it that it is done."

The dream blurred as Pettigrew gave a small nod, still shaking with fright, and scuttled away.

She heard another voice, a younger voice, call out to her. "Lia, please, please wake up, we're going to be late!" Someone was gently prodding her on the cheek.

"Oh, let me, Hermione," Ron grumbled. A pillow was thrown in her face.

"Don't fucking –"

"Lia, come on, hurry up. It's today!" Harry said.

"What's today?" She opened her eyes and saw them all standing in front of her, fully dressed. She rubbed her head, beginning to lose sight of whatever strange scene she had seen. There was a prickling pain on her upper arm.

"What's today?" Ron repeated with disbelief. "Only the Quidditch World Cup!"

"Right." She scrambled out of bed. "How late am I?"

"Everyone's had breakfast already. You'll just have to grab fruit. Move then! Get dressed." He chucked a set of clothes at her.

"You might want to get out of the room first," she grumbled, grabbing her foot so that she could slip on a sock.

Half an hour later, they were trudging up a steep hill, grass tickling around their ankles, and the sun shining down on their faces. Lia's stumpy legs burned, as she struggled to keep up with the others. She could already feel a stitch lodging itself into her lower left rib, and she pressed a finger on it, willing it to go away.

When they eventually reached the tip of the hill, a voice called out, "Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it."

Mr. Weasley strode over, smiling, and shook hands with the other wizard. "This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Lia almost whistled. Cedric was tall and handsome … really handsome. She remembered versing him in Quidditch once in Second Year, he was a fine Seeker and she was relatively sure that he was now Captain of the Hufflepuff Team. He also happened to be fair and kind, so it wasn't surprising that he had girls gushing after him whenever he spoke. Some people were just too perfect.

The old boot that lay beside a withered tree, turned out to be a portkey, that bought them crashing onto a seemingly empty field. Lia frowned and glanced around.

"I thought you said it was a _world_ cup, Ron? This doesn't look very … festive."

"You've got to wait until we get to the field," he replied.

They walked across the lush ground until they reached a valley, where the land sloped downwards. She gasped. Below them, hundred, perhaps thousands, of tents had been set up, dotting the field like a horde of tiny ants.

Lia spotted a curious looking tent, well … it couldn't really be called a tent, for it far closer resembled an Arabian palace, with its silk tarp and towering stature. There was a distinctive group of albino peacocks tethered to a glistening pole near its entrance. She snorted – she could bet her life that the blow-up palace belonged to the Malfoys. So showy.

"Home sweet home," said Mr. Weasley, as he zipped open the flap of a small tent.

"How are we going fit?" Harry whispered to her, a questioning look on his face.

Lia shrugged. "Worse still, I don't think anyone bought a sleeping bag."

She stooped down into the tent, and was promptly gobsmacked. The interior appeared to have been magnified about ten times, so that it was now the size of a three-bedroom flat, entirely equipped with its own bathroom and kitchen. The furniture was humble, if slightly archaic, but there was an aura of warmth and comfort that made everything appear cosy –similar to what she'd always imagined a grandmother's cottage would be like.

"I love magic," Harry whispered, with a dumb grin, and Lia laughed.

"First thing, we're going to need some water," Mr. Weasley handed Ron a kettle with some saucepans, "Why don't you, Harry, Hermione and Lia, help us find some, and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

They walked off around the campsite towards the taps. The sun was beginning to set now, orange hued rays kissing the field around, and coating them with a hazy glow.

"How many times, Kevin? You. Don't. Touch. Daddy's. Wand," a witch said, her brow furrowed with frustration. She stood beside a pyramid-shaped tent, with bags under her eyes, and her arms crossed across her chest.

Lia's foot landed on something very slippery, like a plop of slime on the ground. She fell backwards, her head hitting the floor.

"Fuc … fudge," she corrected, looking up at the little toddler that was now staring at her, with his lips set in a sulky pout.

"You bust slug!" he yelled, prodding her with a tiny finger. "You bust slug!" It seemed that the young boy had been playing with the now trodden on animal.

"Oops. Sorry," Lia said, feeling sorrier for herself than for the young boy. She looked down at the squashed piece of gunk on the back of her shoe. "Ew." She flicked it off with a fingernail. Hermione reached a hand out to her and pulled her off the ground. Ron and Harry were still laughing.

"I apologise for him," the woman's mother said, shaking her head, "Come on, Kevin. Back in the tent. Now."

"But sluggg," Kevin whined, his lip quivering.

"Ron," said Lia, "Conjure up a slug won't you? If I'm not wrong, I remember you have a particular talent for that." She was thinking back to Second Year, where a faulty wand had led to him vomiting up the slimy things.

Ron grumbled, but did as she said.

"Yay!" the boy cried, and went back to jabbing the poor creature with his wand. His mother sighed and shook her head. The three of them left, while the witch continued to scold her son.

After an eventful barbeque style dinner - in which it had taken Mr. Weasley countless tries before he gave up in his attempts to light a match, and had handed the task over to Hermione's skilled hands - they were outside the Quidditch stadium.

It was enormous, filled with the laughter and shouts of more than a thousand people, the air frenzied with excitement as they waited in anticipation for the upcoming match. They climbed up the swooping stairs, searching for their seats.

"Blimey Dad, how far up are we?" Ron asked, panting.

"Well put it this way, if it rains … you'll the first to know." Lia turned to see haughty Lucius Malfoy walking towards them, a sneer on his face, Malfoy trailing behind him.

"Father and I are in the minister's box," Draco said, wearing an identical smirk, "by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself."

Lucius gave his son a shove with his hand, glaring. "Don't boast Draco. There's no need with these people," he paused. "Do enjoy yourself won't you? While you can."

What did he mean by 'while you can'? But, Lia didn't have time to wonder, for Malfoy saw her and immediately grinned, showing a row of straight white teeth. "Hello Lia. I've been looking for you," he said. "Care to join us? Like I told you in the past, you can sit with much better people."

"Go away, Malfoy," she muttered back.

"As you wish." He gave a quick glance at his father, his expression shifting to something that was oddly ill at ease. "… Be careful, won't you? You've always been a moron."

"Is that a threat?" Lia asked, eyes narrowing.

"No," he scoffed. "Always so cynical too. I –" Malfoy was about to say more, but his father gave me another, harder, shove on the back, and he followed after him with knitted brows.

"Come on up, take your seats," Mr. Weasley said, pointing at a row directly in front of where they were standing. Lia stopped staring after Malfoy's retreating back and plonked herself down next to Harry.

Harry was frowning. "Why did Malfoy ask you to sit with him?"

"He has brain problems," she replied. Harry did not look remotely satisfied with her answer, but Ludo Bagman's voice filled the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen … welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

There was an ear-splitting fusion of eager screams and thundering claps, which Lia joined in on. She waved her green flag in the air. It was so thrilling to be a participant in an event of this scale, especially considering that she had not yet had the pleasure of attending a professional sporting match. The Dursleys had taken Dudley to a football game once, but as she had expected, Lia had not been invited – Vernon and Petunia would never voluntarily 'waste' unnecessary money on her.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce … the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" The other side of the stand stood up and burst into roars, vigorously flourishing their scarlet flags.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"

"What are veel …" Harry trailed off, and his puzzled expression dissolved into one of enamour.

There were about a hundred veela gliding out onto the field. Lia thought 'glide', not walk, for they did not seem to be hindered by mortal actions like footsteps. Instead, they appeared as if they were moving over the surface of water, too elegant and too graceful to be real, a flock of angels amongst commoners. This was all supported by their immense beauty, since, as much as Lia hated to admit it, they were perhaps the most beautiful women she had ever seen.

Lia groaned. Harry and Ron looked as if they had seen, not only angels, but Jesus himself. By the way their bodies leaned forward, she thought that they were contemplating leaping off the railing, or in other words, suiciding. She grabbed onto her brother's arm, just as he made a push forwards.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked. She exchanged an annoyed look with Lia, who shook her head.

"Boys." Lia waved a hand in front of Harry's face. "Hello? Are you there? Did the veela steal whatever infinitesimal fragment of brain you had?"

Harry ignored her, apparently still enraptured. Lia could swear that a little bit of drool was leaking out the corner of his mouth. "Control your hormones will you?" she said, sighing. "Consider me thoroughly disturbed."

Hermione made a tutting sound and pulled Ron back down into his seat. "Honestly!" she snapped.

Ludo Bagman's voice echoed through the stadium again. "And now," he said, sucking in the crowd's attention, "kindly put your wands in the air … for the Irish Nation Team Mascots!"

There was a stunning green-and-gold comet that zoomed in from the opposite side of the field. It divided into two smaller comets, that soared into the goal posts, and burst into a rainbow that connected together in the middle, before dissolving into shimmering particles. Gold coins were now raining down on their heads, and Lia reached up to grab one.

"Leprechauns!" Mr. Weasley said, looking mighty impressed.

The firework display finished, and the exuberant crowd sat back down, shining with apprehension. Lia cupped her chin in her hands.

It appeared that a breath-taking match was about to begin.

* * *

It was late in the evening when the group finally made their way back from the stadium. Moonlight bore down with a pearly sheen, and the sound of inebriated singing from the throngs of overjoyed Irish supporters, and the disappointed grumbles from the scarlet-clad spectators; filled the air with a delirium, unlike anything Lia had ever experienced. It was excitement personified.

Back in the tent, Ron was sitting on one of the armchairs in the enchanted tent, a look of admiration on his face, lips curled up into a dreamy smile. "There's no one like Krum," he said. "He's like a bird the way he rides the wind. He's more than an athlete, he's an artist."

Lia snorted. With the way he fangirled over Krum, he sort of reminded her of the preadolescent girls she'd met in the past, when she'd still attended St. Gorgorys' Primary School under her Aunt and Uncle's care.

"I think you're in love, Ron?" Ginny said, laughing. Ron tried to throw a cushion at his sister but missed. It hit a glass mug on the cabinet behind them, and it wobbled precariously, almost toppling down.

Ginny's comment sparked Fred and George into a brilliant, if not slightly off-tune, musical rendition. "Viktor I love you!" they sang in unison. "Viktor I do!"

Grinning, Lia joined in on the mockery. Ron just made it too easy. "When we're apart my heart beats only for youuu!" The last note was drawn out to a beautiful finish.

Ron was grimacing, his face sour and red, and he looked around for more cushions.

With the room now silent, the seven of them quickly noticed that something was wrong, and their smiles, or in Ron's case frown, slowly fell from their faces. The noisy singing and shouting had died down into something less joyous. It was as if the air had gotten thicker, tenser, and it was not the sound of merriment, but rather fear, that they now heard. The sound of screams. Lia frowned. What the hell was happening outside?

"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on," said Fred.

Mr. Weasley burst into the tent. His face was pale and sweat beaded on his forehead, but his eyes were alert and wary. "It's not the Irish. Get up!" he said restlessly, motioning for them to stand from their spots on the chairs. "Get up! We've got to get out of here, this is urgent!"

Hermione was the first to grab her wand off the coffee table, and the rest of them trailed after her, all feeling confused and uneasy. Lia immediately knew something was horribly wrong when she caught sight of the fires that were still littered around the field. People were fleeing out of the turf, and the glowing lights from cast spells were thrown about everywhere, like lasers jetting in the night.

There was something flapping about in mid-air, suspended like a frozen bird. Lia gasped, when she realised that it wasn't a bird at all, but instead a small Muggle child. Squinting, and trying to look closer, despite the murkiness of the night, she found that an entire Muggle family was being flipped up and down above them, whilst they writhed about, evidently terrified.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, his gaze fixated upon the youngest child, who couldn't have been older than six. She looked like a little rag doll jerked around by clumsy hands, her neck whipping so forcefully that Lia was afraid it would snap. "That is really sick …"

Lia shook her head. " _They're_ sick," she corrected, pointing at the crowd of masked wizards who were responsible for the levitation, and presently, seemed to be laughing a cruel laugh.

Suddenly, whatever marginal vision that they'd obtained before was lost, as the coloured lanterns decorating the stadium were extinguished in one swoop. More of the dark robed, masked figures were pouring in from behind the trees, and she could hear children crying as their mothers tried desperately to shush them. If there had been fear in the air before, now there was panic - an overwhelming panic that triggered the pushing and shoving of hundreds of people, all of them trying to bolt at once.

Lia found that she was quickly losing sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione – bodies were whacking into her so brutally, that she had to step back or risk getting trampled over. "Harry!" she hollered. "Merlin. Where did you all bloody go?"

She looked around for any sign of a boy with round spectacles, or a flash of vivid red hair, or even bushy brown locks – but there was none to be found, merely hundreds of terrified faces that she didn't recognise. What was she going to do now? Mr. Weasley had told them to find the portkey, but where in ruddy hell was she meant to find it in this mess? She had absolutely no clue where she was now, and as must as she disliked not knowing things, she was completely and utterly lost.

"Get down!" a voice cried. She found herself pushed to the ground, narrowly missing a jet of red light that had been heading straight at her head.

"Malfoy?" Lia said, eyes bulging. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass, of course. As per usual." He was lying on top of her now, smirking with his blond strands lightly grazing her neck. "So, we meet again. Did you notice that we always seem to end up sprawled on the ground? Must be a sign from fate."

"Fuck off." She pushed away roughly and stood up, her cheeks flaming. "Don't waste my time," she hissed.

"I just saved you from that spell," he said pointedly, rolling his eyes. "You don't need to be so grateful. And why do I always have to rescue you?" He sighed. "It's exhausting."

" _You're_ exhausting," she shot back, "… and I can help myself. So don't bother, okay?" She brushed off a fleck of dirt and turned to leave. Malfoy grabbed onto her arm. His shoulders were tense and his brow furrowed.

"Wait!" he blurted out. "It's not safe."

Lia glared at him. "Not safe, did you say? I suppose you'd know all about that. Your parents are probably out there wearing masks."

She tried to shake off the ounce of guilt she felt when Malfoy winced noticeably. "I did warn you to be careful before," he muttered. Lia could feel the spot of warmth on her arm, where Malfoy's hand still gripped onto.

"Why would they do that?" Lia said suddenly, chewing on her lip. "Torture them, I mean. I understand if they hate Muggles, but … two of them were just children. Just innocent children."

"They're Death Eaters -," Malfoy said curtly.

"Death Eaters?" Lia interjected.

"Followers of the Dark Lord. The ones in the masks," he continued, looking solemn. "And torture and death is just what they've been raised to. It's the way their parents, and probably their grandparents, were raised. Besides," he added, glancing up at the dark sky, "people are always afraid of what they can't understand."

"Is that how you were raised?"

Malfoy stared at her, and his thoughtful expression hardened into annoyance. "No, Lia," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "I've been lying to you all this time. Lucius is actually a Muggle-loving blood traitor who secretly keeps rubber ducks under his silk pillow. And Narcissa is going to be our new Muggle Studies Teacher this year, after she finishes her stint of volunteer work with babies in Africa."

"Okay," Lia grumbled. "I get it. Stupid question."

"What's stupid," Malfoy said, "is that wizards have to live in hiding from them." He eyed Lia, who was scowling. "Don't glare at me. Look, Lia, I don't think that it's okay for them to be attacking kids. But what I don't understand is why we have to fear them. Why are we the ones hiding all the time, when we're obviously superior? It's not right."

"Nothing's ever perfect. But what You-Know-Who wanted? Enslaving all the Muggles? That's what's not right. I don't see how anyone could condone that. It's basically ideology from a thousand years ago, back when we didn't have human rights. And all that crap with the muggle-borns? Don't tell me that you actually believe that they get their magical powers from theft right?"

Lia paused, wondering. "You know, that makes me think of an interesting question. What came first, the muggle or the wizard?"

He groaned. "Don't get all philosophical on me."

"True," said Lia, "I suppose your non-existent intellect wouldn't be able to handle it, Malfoy."

"After all this time," he said, pretending to look wounded, "after all we've been through, I still get the Malfoy treatment?"

"Malfoy's your name," she maintained.

"Doesn't Draco sound much nicer?"

"No. It sounds worse, actually."

"Stubborn to the end," he grinned. "But I'm even more stubborn. I'll make you call me Draco, just you wait."

"Good luck," she said dryly, waving a hand at him, "I have to go find Harry, now that those masked people have gone." She looked around at the almost deserted and trashed field. At least someone had put out the flaming tents, so that they were now just a blackened hump of cloth that drifted in the breeze.

"I'll see you at school," he said. "Don't miss me too much til then." He walked off, as Lia scoffed and rolled her eyes. Arrogant prat.

She scanned through the rubble, searching for a peek of messy black hair. "Harry? Harry is that you?" She raced over to where her brother was rising from a patch of dirty grass. "Oh thank god. You just had to run off didn't you! I've searching for bloody ages."

"I didn't run off," Harry replied, rubbing his glasses on his jumper. "I got trodden on, to the point of unconsciousness."

"Oh," said Lia. "I suppose that's not bad, as far as excuses go."

"Harry!" Ron's familiar voice cried out, Hermione running after him. "Lia! We've been looking for you! We thought we lost you both."

"You could never lose …" Lia trailed off, to gawp at the monstrous mark in the sky. It was a ghostly green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, hovering beside a patch of clouds, garish green like an aurora in the night.

Harry followed her line of sight and gasped, "What is that?"

Ron grimaced and opened his mouth, but he didn't have time to reply. Exactly at that moment, around eight spells shot simultaneously towards them. Lia felt Hermione grip onto her and pull them all down, to the floor, ducking so that it skimmed over the top of their hair.

"Stop!" Mr. Weasley cried. "That's my son." He rushed towards them, pulling Ron up by the shoulder. "Ron, Harry, Hermione, Lia, are you four alright?"

"Peachy," said Lia.

A man with short grey hair and narrowly trimmed moustache rushed forward. His face was staunch like stone, and his body held firmly upright, like a straight rod. "Which of you conjured this?" he practically roared at them, shaking Lia so hard that she thought she would vomit.

"Conjured w-what," she managed to spit out, as the man continued shaking her. The wizard stopped, only to pierce her with his glare.

"Do not lie!" he yelled. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Crime?" asked Harry.

"Barty, they're just kids," Mr. Weasley said, looking anxiously at Lia, who had turned green.

"What crime?" Harry repeated.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "It's his mark."

"Whose mark? Voldemort's?" Everyone, who wasn't Harry, winced. "Sorry, I mean You-Know-Who. Those people tonight, in the masks … they're his too aren't they? They're his followers."

Lia nodded, with her head bowed and her hands on her knees. "Death Eaters," she said.

"How do you know that?" her brother asked.

"Malf … uh … books?"

Harry gave her a sceptical look, but turned to Barty and said, "There was a man. Before. There."

Barty followed in the direction that Harry's finger pointed to, and motioned for his men to move. "All of you," he called, "this way."

When they had left, Mr. Weasley spun to Harry and asked, "Harry, who?"

He frowned. "I dunno. I didn't see his face."

"Always so helpful," said Lia.

Harry glared at her.


	4. Back to School

It was with both a reluctance to return to dreary classes like History of Magic, and an eagerness to see Tracey once more, that the holidays drew to a close for Lia. Before she had time to do any of the meaningful activities she'd planned, she found herself back on the Hogwarts Express, headed for yet another year of magical learning. She wondered what she'd be in store for this year – after all, her previous time at Hogwarts had been far from dull, to say the least.

"Anything from the trolley?" the witch called out, poking her head into their compartment. "Anything from the trolley?" she repeated.

"Packet of drewbals and a liquorice wand," said Ron, but upon reaching into his pocket, he found that he didn't have enough money. "On second thought, just the drewbals," he said glumly.

"It's alright, I'll get it," Harry said, standing up.

Ron shook his head, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Just the drewbals, thanks," he muttered.

"Harry, buy me a chocolate frog, won't you?" Her brother ignored her. He was staring at something, a dazed look on his face. "Hello? Earth to Harry?" When he didn't respond, Lia stood up and walked over, waving a hand in his face.

He blinked. "Sorry."

"Two pumpkin pasties, please," came a girl's voice.

Ah. So Harry hadn't been staring at something, but rather _someone_. Cho Chang to be exact. Lia had never had the pleasure of talking to her, but she was a rather pretty Ravenclaw, who she had versed in Quidditch a few years ago. She had grown taller, and her long black hair hung nicely down her back.

Harry met her gaze and gave the girl a clumsy smile, which she returned. "Thank you," Cho said, as the trolley witch handed her the treats.

"Anything sweet for you dear?" the witch asked Harry.

"Oh no, thank you," Harry said hastily, "I'm not hungry."

"I'll take a chocolate frog," said Lia, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"So," she said, as she sat back down, nudging Harry with her elbow, "Cho Chang, huh?"

Harry's face turned even redder, and he averted his gaze. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stuttered.

"Sure."

Hermione slammed the newspaper she'd been reading down on the seat beside her. "This is horrible," she said, "How can the ministry not know who conjured the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup? Isn't there any security or-?"

"Loads, according to Dad," said Ron, "That's what worried them so much. Happened right under their noses."

By the time they had arrived at Hogwarts, and the train had clunked to a stop, it was already night. Lia quickly caught sight of four large Pegasus soaring in the air, pulling along a carriage with them, and landing with a clonk of hooves on an open field near the forest. That peculiar sight was matched by the enormous ship that abruptly emerged from the water, similar to a submarine resurfacing.

"Well," said Harry, "There's something you don't see everyday."

"I'll say."

"We must have guests!" Lia said, clapping her hands together.

They boarded the carriages up to the towering walls of the castle, where a beautifully decorated feast awaited them in the Great Hall – with golden plates and goblets shining in the light, and the ceiling above enchanted to appear like a thousand stars were strung above it. She found a spot on the Slytherin table, next to her friend Tracey.

"How's your summer been?" Lia asked.

"Wonderful!" Tracey said smiling. "Mum took me to buy a new owl, and we spent two weeks in Italy."

"Ah, Italy," Lia said, not without a hint of jealousy. "I still can't believe you wouldn't let me hide in your suitcase."

Tracey laughed. "I don't think that would've been a good idea. How was the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Good, until the Death Eaters showed up and bloody ruined everything."

"Yeah," she frowned. "I read about that." She looked around at the other Slytherins and whispered, "It's a bit worrying, the –"

Tracey didn't finish, for Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the hall grew silent. "Now that we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well."

A murmur rose along the four tables, as the students whispered to their friends.

"You see Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Tri-Wizard Tournament. Now for those of you who do not know, the Tri-Wizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school, a single contestant will be selected to compete. Now let me be clear, there contests are not for the faint hearted … but more of that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and the headmistress, Madam Maxime."

What followed next, Lia thought to be a cross between a fashion show and a rhythmic gymnastics tournament. A cluster of beautiful girls dressed in blue, began to twirl and dance, as they made their way up the hall. When they passed the tables, they would simultaneously blow butterflies at the students in short intervals, before they continued strutting up.

If it were anyone else doing it, they probably would have looked exceedingly stupid, but the Beauxbaton girls had an allure that made it appear very charming and feminine. Lia looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

"When did the modelling agency show up?"

Towards the back of the group, a women of great height glided after them. "Blimey, that's one big woman," Lia heard Seamus Finnigan whisper not so quietly.

Dumbledore kissed the headmistress lightly on the hand, his eyes twinkling. "And now," he said, "our friends from the north, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their high master, Igor Karkaroff!"

There was the sound of staffs banging on the stone floor and a crowd of dashing young men, decked out in soft fur coats, made their way up. They were all the tall, dark and muscled sort.

"Handsome, aren't they?" Lia whispered to Tracey.

"Lia," she murmured back, grabbing onto her arm, excitement shining in her eyes, "It's him! It's Viktor Krum!"

She leaned forward. "Damn."

One of the Durmstrang students lit a match, and upon blowing on it, it exploded into a fiery phoenix that flew through the air, before disintegrating into sparkling red sparks.

"Your attention please!" Dumbledore said again, "I would like to say a few words … Eternal glory. That is what awaits the student who wins the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks."

Malfoy said with fake courage, "I'm going to enter," and Parkinson simpered beside him, looking at him like he'd miraculously turned into Hercules.

Lia rolled her eyes. "I didn't know they accepted spineless cowards."

"For this reason, the ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all of this we have the Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation, Mister Bartimus Crouch," Dumbledore said, introducing the grey-haired man with the straight back.

"He's the man I saw at the World Cup," Lia whispered, "Mr. Crouch thought it was us who conjured the Dark Mark."

"What?" Tracey said, "You and Harry? Why would anyone think that Harry was in league with You-Know-Who?"

Lia shrugged. "He mustn't be very bright."

There was a sudden rumble of thunder, and Parkinson dropped her cup, pumpkin juice flowing down the table and dripping onto her robes. Lia would have laughed, but the the doors flung open with another deafening bang, and a scarred man garbed in long black robes plodded in.

He was limping, his bad leg beating hard against the floor, but the sheer coldness and ruthlessness in his expression eliminated any other signs of weakness. Directing his wand at the sky, the man cast a spell, and the weather immediately returned to the usual tranquil and starry dark blue.

"That's Mad-Eye Moody," Tracey hissed. "He was an auror." She dropped her voice even lower, whilst she scanned around the room. "He's probably responsible for filling half the cells in Azkaban with dark wizards … maybe even the parents of my students here." Indeed, Lia could see a few Slytherins scowling hatefully at the wizard. "Alastor's supposed to be mad as a hatter though, these days."

"Interesting."

Barty Crouch raised a hand in the air, waiting until the chatter died down. He lightly stroked his moustache. "After much deliberation," he said slowly, "the ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This decision is final."

There was an instantaneous shockwave that ran throughout he room, triggering an array of booing and complaints from many who were underage.

"That's rubbish!" George yelled.

"You don't know what you're doing!" said Fred.

"Silence!" Dumbledore pointed his wand at a sizable, rectangular box, which melted into a stand, on which a goblet holding a bold, blue flame was contained. "The Goblet of Fire," he clarified. "Anyone of age, who wishes to submit themselves for the tournament, need merely to write their name upon a piece of parchment and cast it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly, if chosen, there's no turning back." He paused for dramatic effect, and said, "As from this moment forth, the Tri-Wizard Tournament has begun."

"Who do you think'll get chosen?" Lia wondered out loud, as they made their way back to the Slytherin common room.

"Krum," Tracey replied, without a second's thought. "He's an internationally famous Quidditch player. The tournament will get that much more coverage if he's in it."

"I don't see why anyone would want to enter in the first place."

"Fame and money. It's all about the fame and the money."

Lia snorted. "There's better ways to get rich. And what good's fame if you're dead?"

"Password?" the stone wall asked them.

"Salazar."

A few fragments shifted to reveal a hidden door. Lia pushed hard against it and walked in to greet the familiar underground chamber with the eerie green lights and elaborate mantelpieces.

"Is it weird that I've sort of missed this place?"

She climbed upstairs and flopped onto her bed, sprawling amongst the sheets.

* * *

One of Lia's first lessons for the term was Care of Magical Creatures. She wasn't sure how to feel about it. On the positive side, she shared the class with the Gryffindors, so it was one of the rather scarce times that she could talk to her brother. Plus, Hagrid was the professor and he had always been the pleasant, kindly type. But on the other hand…

"Ouch!" Lia yelled, as the tip of the Blast-Ended Skrewt exploded in her hand, leaving behind an ugly red mark. "Stupid thing."

In today's lesson they were attempting to feed the slimy, deformed, worm-like things with their diet of frog livers and grass snake, whilst simultaneously avoiding being stung, bitten or scorched. Hagrid had always had a penchant for picking less than savoury creatures for his classes.

"Here," Hermione said, pointing her wand at Lia's palm and whispering an incantation, so that the burn quickly faded away.

"Thanks."

"What's the point of this?" Malfoy grumbled angrily, a few rows down. "What do Skrewts even do?"

"They're very useful for your enemies," Lia replied. "For example … Malfoy, catch!" She plucked out her wand, and with a levitation charm, threw her own Skrewt at him. It sailed through air in a beautiful arch, plonking onto Malfoy's hastily outstretched arm.

"Are you mad?" he hollered, glowering. He had managed to drop the creature in his basket before it exploded, but not before he'd been stung by it's sharp tail end.

Lia laughed, whilst she gave a small shrug. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

She was alarmed to find that Malfoy's scowl was quickly dissolving into one of his trademark smirks. After a silence, Malfoy said, with a gleam of deviltry, "I noticed you said enemies. But we're not enemies are we? In fact, I recall you saying we were _friends_ , you know at my parents' ho –"

"Shut the hell up!" Lia snapped, aware that Harry was listening in. "Do you want me to chuck another Skrewt in your obnoxious face?"

Malfoy laughed and went back to flinging frog livers into his basket.

"What did he mean?" Harry asked her, frowning.

"Nothing," said Lia, "He's just being Malfoy.

Harry hurled her suspicious looks for the rest of the lesson, as did Ron and Hermione. Lia groaned. One of these days, she was actually going to slaughter Malfoy.

Once class had ended, Lia quickly spotted Malfoy and tugged him on the shoulder. He had been preparing to head to the Great Hall for lunch, but she towed him down into a side corridor.

"What now?" he whined, "I'm hungry."

"Can you please lay back on the … the …"

"The what?"

"… The … I-I don't know!" She threw her arms up in the air. "Just don't talk to me. At least not when Harry's there."

"Why?" he said, smirking. "I thought you'd be proud that someone like me was talking to you."

She ignored his conceitedness. "You're making Harry suspect that there's something's going on!"

"Well, isn't there?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, still maintaining his smirk.

"No!"

"I see you're still lying to yourself." He put a hand on his chin. "On that note, you're still lying to your brother too, then? I take it that Potter has no idea we met multiple times during the holidays?"

She shook her head violently. "And we're going to make sure to keep it that way, aren't we?"

Malfoy made a tutting noise. "I always thought you were the honest type. But then again, deception is very … Slytherin of you. I like it."

"It's not deception!" she hissed back. "It's merely … omitting some facts. And I don't give a shit what you think, Malfoy!"

"What a kind, honourable girl you are, Lia," he said dryly.

"You're an arrogant jerk."

He shrugged. "At least I don't lie to myself." He placed one hand on Lia's shoulder and pressed her against the stone wall. "Tell me Lia," he whispered into her ear, "can you honestly say that there's nothing going on here? That we're just two strangers who happen to be indifferent to each other?"

She banged her fist on his head. "I'm not indifferent to you …" she said, as Malfoy smiled smugly. "Let me finish! I'm not indifferent … in fact, I strongly dislike you."

"Aw," Malfoy took his hand off of her and put it above his heart. "Lia, someday, you might just hurt my feelings. Although, I don't think think you really mean what you said though."

"Oh, yeah? And why's that, bighead?"

"You're confused … That's why you're always so bad-tempered around me. You don't know what to feel, and you don't want to accept that you like me more than you should, so naturally you just turn all that confusion into anger."

"I'm not bad-tempered!" Lia yelled with indignation, "And you think you know everything, don't you? Well, I'm telling you that you're completely wrong!" She was practically spitting by now.

"Alright," Malfoy said. Eyeing Lia's closed fists, he held his arms up in submission. "Fine. But we'll see won't we?" He gave her one last smile, and sauntered off into the Great Hall.

Lia collapsed against the wall, sliding to her knees, glaring down at the floor. After taking a moment to compose herself, and wait until Malfoy's retreating back was gone from her sight, she stood up, dusted off, and trailed behind him towards lunch.

"Lia," Tracey said, when she took a seat next to her, "Why's your face all red? You look like you ran a marathon."

"It's hot," she muttered back.

Tracey stared with doubt at the woollen beanie and soft scarf Lia was wearing. She opened her mouth to say more; but looked at Lia's expression, shook her head, and dropped the subject.

"One second," Lia said. "I accidentally took Harry's history book. I'll be back."

She walked over to the Gryffindor table, and found that Harry's gaze was drawn to the Ravenclaw table. She followed and saw Cho Chang, sitting there with her friends. She turned her head, and upon spotting Harry, gave him a small smile.

Harry's eyes widened, and he curled his lips up to return the smile. Unfortunately for him, he still hadn't swallowed the pumpkin juice in his mouth yet and it gushed out the corner of his mouth, the orange liquid dribbling all down his front. Mortified, he wiped at it with a napkin, as Cho's friends burst into giggles.

"Oh dear," said Lia, bent over from laughing. "And that my friends, is how a relationship dies."

"Be quiet," Harry muttered.

"Smooth, darling brother, so smooth. You're a real life Prince Charming."

"Why are you here?"

"I was going to give you back your History book, must have taken it by accident. But instead, I got to watch the Adventures of Harry, the Dreadful Flirt."

"I wasn't flirting."

"Yeah, you're right. You weren't. It was more like shamefully humiliating yourself. Do I need to give you lessons on being attractive?"

"Shut up. It's not like you have hundreds of boys fighting over you. You're just as single as me."

She titled her chin up. "At least I'm proud to be single. I'm like Artemis."

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Nothing."

Lia dropped the heavy book in front of Harry. "See you in potions, then." She waved at them half-heartedly, and walked back to Slytherin, shoving a leg of chicken in her mouth.

"Hey Lia," Zabini said, as she reached for another slice of pie.

"Hi?" she said, slowly. Zabini rarely talked to her. In fact, she was pretty sure the most he'd said to her since Second Year, was 'I think you dropped your quill'.

"You're good at charms, aren't you?"

"What are –"

"Good. Flitwick said that I need to pick up my grades if I want a pass in OWLs next year."

"And I care because?"

"Because," he said, drawing out the word, "I was wondering if you'd be able to tutor me a bit?" He gave her a pearly smile, and held her eye contact.

Lia raised an eyebrow, and crossed her arms, finding the situation a tad strange. "Why me?"

He shrugged casually. "You're a Slytherin. You're a pureblood. And you're not half-bad at Charms."

"Wow. Glad to hear that. I'm touched."

"Is that a yes?" He tossed his dark brown hair over his melted chocolate eyes. "Please? I don't want to think about how mum would react if I failed."

"Can't you … I don't know … ask Hermione, or something?"

"Granger?" Zabini wrinkled his nose. "That mudblood?"

"Okay," Lia said, standing up, "Find someone else." She patted him crudely on the back. "I have important things to do, much more important than hanging out with jerks like you."

Zabini groaned with exasperation. "Please, Lia? Help out a fellow student." He scratched his neck, thinking. "I'll let Flitwick know you're tutoring me, and he'll give you credit. Didn't you say you wanted to be a Prefect next year? This'll help your chances."

"How could it possible help?"

"Well … Flitwick's on the board, you know? And he'll put in a good word about you to Dumbledore."

"I don't know," she replied. "But then again … I do want to be Prefect …" She nudged Tracey. "Imagine me bossing the First Years around!" She sighed, dreamily. "It would be glorious."

"Is that a yes?" he repeated.

"I'll sleep on it."

"Oh come on," Zabini growled, "I'll pay you."

She felt a smile tug at her lips. "How much?"

"Five galleons an hour."

"Ten."

"Ten! How rich do you think I am?"

She shrugged. "Find someone else then. I'll let Hermione know you're interested."

Zabini scowled. "Eight. That's my final offer."

Lia deliberated on all of the merchandise she'd be able to afford: the fine robes and the new spell books, the brand new cage decorations for Cleo, the candy from Honeydukes and the new jokes from Zonko's and … "Alright," she said, "I'll tutor you. I don't see why you're so desperate though."

"It's agreed then." He beamed, leaping up from his seat. "Let's start now."

"Now?"

"Yeah, we have a mini test coming up. And we've got free period until three this afternoon."

It was a rather uncomfortable stroll through the corridor as they headed to one of the deserted classrooms. Lia whistled between her teeth, and engrossed herself with counting how many paintings they'd already passed.

"So," Zabini said finally, "You're friends with Caroline and stuff, right?"

"I guess … we share a dorm, and she's nice and all. But you should know that. You're a Slytherin too."

"Yeah. Caroline's real nice." He cleared his throat. "We're here."

"What do you need my help with?"

"Summoning charms."

"Go on. Show me then."

After that one-hour session, Zabini came out of it with the ability to summon small objects like pencils towards him, and Lia was delighted to receive a bag full of shiny golden coins that she was bursting to spend the next time she got to leave the stuffy castle.

"Thanks," Zabini said as they left, shooting her another one of his striking smiles.

"You too," Lia replied, holding up her newly owned money. "Another session next week?"

"Yeah. Until then, bye … _professor_." He gave her a cocky wink, before he clutched his books in one hand, and took leave.

Lia found herself smiling as she too left, and walked back to the common room to retrieve her supplies.


	5. Goblet of Fire

"Alastor Moody," their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher said, whilst he snatched a piece of chalk. A harsh, scraping sound rang out as he scrawled his name onto the board. "Ex-Auror. Ministry Malcontent. And your new professor. I'm here because Dumbledore asked me, end of story, goodbye, the end. Any questions?" he continued on without waiting for a reply, "When it comes to the dark arts, I believe in a practical approach."

Lia raised her eyebrows at Tracey, who shrugged.

"Now, I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But, I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? So, first," he barked out, "which of you can tell me how many unforgivable curses there are?"

"Three sir," Hermione said, looking very clever, with her arm propped straight up, and hand waving excitedly.

"And they are so named?"

"Because they are unforgivable. Use of any of them will …"

"Will earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Correct." Moody's shoulders tensed, and with his back to the class, yelled, "You need to find somewhere else to put your chewing gum other than the underside of your desk, Mr. Finnigan!"

"Moody seems … different," Lia murmured to Tracey.

Tracey tilted her head to one side, and peered at the professor with curious eyes. "Good different, or bad different?"

"Still deciding."

At the same time, Seamus scowled and unable to control his temper, whispered angrily to his friend, "Aw, no way, the old codger can see out the back of his head."

Mad-eye suddenly spun around and fixed Seamus with a livid stare. "And hear across classrooms!" He lobbed the chalk at Seamus, and it sprung off the boy's head.

Lia snickered. "Probably good different."

"So, which curse shall we start with first? … Weasley!"

"Er … Y-yes?" Ron said hesitantly, squirming a little in his chair.

"Give us a curse," Mad-eye demanded impatiently.

Lia could almost hear Ron racking his brain for an answer. "Well, my dad did tell me about one … the Imperius Curse."

"Ah, yes," their teacher said, nodding. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time. Perhaps this will show you why."

He swerved back and stuck his hand in one of the glass containers, pulling out a hairy, black spider that wriggled in his palm. Pointing his wand at it's abdomen, he muttered, "Engorgio", and it swelled from being large to giant. With the spider now as big as his hand, he said, "Imperio."

Lia watched, with her teeth digging into her bottom lip, as the arachnid scuttled around the desks, following wherever Moody directed his wand. The class burst into cries of fright, coupled with shrieks of amusement.

Normally, Lia would have been beside herself with laughter, to see the terrified looks on Ron and Malfoy's faces when the spider landed on them. However, this time, she was lost in thought, thinking back to a time, when she too, like the spider, had been unable to find her own self-will, had been forced to do another's bidding. A time that had passed by two years ago, in a dark chamber, with the echo of the wizard who would go on to be her mother's murderer.

"What's wrong?" Tracey asked, stopping her guffawing to jab her in the arm. "You look like a vampire who's running dangerously low on blood."

"Nothing. Just a headache."

"Talented isn't she?" Moody said, frowning as he watched the chuckling students. His expression was grim. "What shall I have her do next? Jump out the window? Drown herself?" The last of the laughs died out. Moody had the spider dangling over a bucket - so close to the surface of the water, that if he dropped his wrist a fraction, it would surely sink.

"Scores of witches and wizards have claimed that they only did You-Know-Who's bidding under the influence of the Imperius Curse." He levitated the spider back into his palm. "But here's the rub, how do we sort out the liars?" Lia could have sworn that Moody's glass eye had been fixated on Malfoy the entire time he uttered the sentence.

Once the class had eventually finished, Lia was quite sure that Moody had managed to traumatize Neville by allowing him to witness the Cruciatus Curse, and she had caught Harry attempting to mask his discomfort when their professor sent a killing curse at the spider. Lia couldn't blame him. Seeing the enchanment had filled her with both revulsion and a morbid curiosity, an interest in what her mother would have felt when Voldemort used that incantation on her.

As far as dying went, it wasn't the worst way to go. She'd heard that it was a painless process, not much different than if you were merely an elderly woman dying in your sleep. You'd be gone before your mind could fully register what had happened. But, then again, everyone who'd been hit with Avada Kedavra was dead – well … everyone except her brother that is - so what would anyone know of it?

"I just wanted to let you know that I've been sleeping with Harry since Third Grade, and we're planning to run off and elope together today."

"Okay," Lia replied absent-mindedly, still staring out the window in a daze.

"Lia!"

She gave a small jolt, and snapped her eyes to the left. "What?"

Tracey shook her head. "I asked you before if you wanted to come with me to the Great Hall."

"Why?" she looked at the clock on the wall, "We still have about three hours before dinner."

"The senior students are putting their names in the goblet!" Tracey squealed. "Personally, I'm rooting for Cedric."

"Cedric? As in Cedric Diggory?"

"Who else?"

"No idea. But … shouldn't you at least be going for a Slytherin, not a Hufflepuff?"

"I can't help it," she said sighing, "Cedric's just perfection." There was a doting smile on her face. "Handsome, and brave, and kind. What more could a girl possible want? Plus, it doesn't hurt that he has these amazing eyes. They're just so … so deep and soulful."

"Alright," Lia said, laughing, and she gave her friend a push, "Let's go before you melt from lust."

They entered the hall, where a large crowd of excited students were already gathered around the flaming goblet. She spotted the Weasley twins, who were looking at each other with big, stupid grins.

"What are you two up to?"

"Oh, hello Lia," said George.

"Has the little Slytherin wriggled out of her cave to come and watch our cunningness?" asked Fred.

"Your cunningness?" Lia arched a sly brow. "Now, now, what are we up to?" She wagged her finger at them, smirking. "We wouldn't happen to be stirring up trouble again, would we?"

"Us?" said George.

"Never," said Fred.

"Well," said Lia, "Just so you know, whatever it is you're up to, I'd advise you do it fast. I saw McGonagall a few corridors down not long before I arrived."

They both gave her a devilish smile. "Okay ma'am, no need to be such a worry-wart. Come take a seat and watch. You're going to love this."

Lia was among the many that cheered for the twins as they strolled up to the center.

"Thank you, thank you," said George, giving them a theatrical bow, "Well lads we've done it."

 **"** Cooked it up just this morning," said Fred. He triumphantly held up a vial holding a murky looking liquid.

Hermione, who had been sitting in the corner with her nose glued to a book, suddenly slammed it shut. She stood up looking exceedingly irritated, whilst she gave the twins a reproachful look and shook her head. "It's not going to work."

 **"** Oh yeah? And why's that Granger?" asked Fred, grinning.

 **"** You see this? This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself."

 **"** So?"

 **"** So," said Hermione, in a tone that fully communicated to everyone that she thought the Weasley twins were morons, "a genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by something so pathetically dimwitted as an age potion."

Fred and George's smiles only grew wider. **"** That's why it's so brilliant," said Fred, "Because it's so pathetically dimwitted."

 **"** Ready Fred?"

 **"** Ready George?"

Lia leaned forwards, watching with quiet delight and fluttery anticipation for what would happen. Hermione walked to her side, shaking her head. "It's not going to work," she repeated again in a whisper.

Lia shrugged. "Probably not. But I suspect that it'll at least be entertaining." She gave another loud cheer, cupping her mouth with her hand.

The twins slugged back the contents of the vial, waiting until there was not a single drop left. Giving each other a mutual grin, they hopped past the ring, and landed with a thud, right beside the Goblet of Fire. There was a pause as they all waited expectantly for them to be thrown out, or even cursed. However, nothing happened, and smirking, Fred and George gave each other a high five, triggering another row of stunned applause to break out.

"Told you it would work," Fred said smugly to the scowling Hermione.

Bracing themselves, the two dropped the delicate scraps of paper, on which their names had been written, into the goblet's flickering blue flames. The fire roared up, sizzling up in the sky.

"Oh dear," said Lia.

Fred and George were flung across the room by an invisible hand, and they tumbled hard to the ground. When they stood up and faced the audience once more, their once red hair was a dull grey, and their faces were lined with wrinkles.

She burst out laughing.

"Shut up, Lia," said Fred.

She only chuckled even harder, so hard that she was practically snorting. "I suppose you two would make very handsome grandfathers."

Fred glared at her, then turned his stare onto George. "You said …"

"You said …"

Concurrently, they leapt at each other and toppled to the floor once more, rolling this way and that, swiping and thrashing with their hands, and pulling hard on each other's hair. Lia was gasping for air, and had the vague thought that she might faint from the lack of oxygen. The room burst into noise again, as a crowd of boys gathered around the fighting twins, all sniggering and cheering them on.

It was not until Viktor Krum walked in that the students grew silent once more. He stepped over the line, and dropped his name into the flames, a solemn yet confident look on his face. As he spotted Hermione, his lips twitched up into an almost pleased smile. Hermione flushed and looked fervently down at her book, as if she had spotted a particularly interesting sentence.

"What was that?" Lia asked her.

"What was what?" Hermione replied, still not glancing up, "Please don't distract me, Lia. I'm trying to read up on the seventeenth century Witch Hunts for history."

"Nice try, Granger. Too bad that I'm not _that_ stupid, and I know full well that we already covered Witch Hunts last year. It was painfully dull." She gave Hermione a teasing smile. "Krum is quite attractive, isn't he? The tall, dark and mysterious type. Although he does seem a bit dense … but then again, you're smart enough to make up for it. You could just do all the talking?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said curtly, standing up to leave. "Do you want to come with me to the library? We have a potions assignment due, and I need to gather more information about antidotes."

"Just write 'use a bezoar'," said Lia, waving a weary hand at her. "And libraries aren't really my thing."

Hermione gave her a patronising stare.

"Oh, but … alright. I guess I do need to get better grades to make up for my imminent failure in divination."

The library was rather dim, for Madam Pince hadn't deemed it necessary to light the lanterns yet. Lia grabbed a book out from a shelf, and coughed as a surge of dust filled her lungs.

"Hey, look." She glanced down at what she held in her hands. "The Wizard's Guide to Slaying Demons," she read out loud, "… seems legit."

"I wouldn't bother with that book, if I were you," came a low voice, "It's rather graphic."

"Malfoy?" she wrinkled her nose, "What are you doing here?"

"Studying. Why? Were you desperately hoping that I was here for you?" He leaned against the neighbouring shelf, and smirked at her. "It's okay, I understand that you find it truly hard to convey your deep desires for me."

"Fuck off, Malfoy," she muttered, and then paused. "Wait, did you say you were studying?"

"Yes."

"Studying for what?"

"School," Malfoy said in a drawl, looking at her like she'd just turned into a toddler, "We have homework, in case you didn't know. I need to find that book I used last time so I can write that blasted essay."

"You do homework?" she asked him blankly.

"No, Lia. I just threaten the shit out of all the teachers until they give me outstandings for everything," Malfoy eyed her and sighed, "I'm kidding."

"I always thought you just blackmailed the Hufflepuffs into writing all the essays for you."

He snorted. "Lia, if I threatened that bunch of half-wits, I wouldn't be shocked if I failed all my classes. And then father would probably pull me out of Hogwarts, and then I'd be forced to live a lonely existence as a very handsome vagrant … So, as tempting as that sounds, I'll have to put in my own effort. Unfortunate, isn't it?"

"You're second in the class, though," Lia said, scrunching up her eyebrows, "Only Hermione's better than you, and she's practically a child genius –"

"Granger's not better than me," Malfoy grumbled, lifting up his nose, "Unlike some people, I happen to have a life. And besides, I'd wager you could beat her if you tried harder. You're third, did you know?"

Lia ignored him. "How are you second then, if you haven't bribed the crap out of everyone?"

"Oh, I don't know," Malfoy said dryly. "You do know that despite the fact that you never stop calling me a brainless twat, I might still actually have a brain? Shocking, isn't it? And maybe I'm not as stupid as you think."

"I never said you were stupid!" Lia said quickly, cheeks pink. "Well okay I might have … but that's only because you're so infuriating! I know you're smart. Really smart. But I always thought that you were too lazy and arrogant to bother trying."

He shrugged. "Like I said, father has expectations. And I'm a Malfoy. We've always been well-educated, so it would be an embarrassment if I had to drop out like a measly squib."

"Huh," said Lia, "I guess you do learn something new everyday."

"Want to come sit with me?"

"No," she looked around, "I need to go find Hermione."

Malfoy snickered. "Don't bother," he pointed at Hermione in the distance, who was sitting on a table with a certain famous Seeker. "It seems the mudb … muggle-born brat's already dug her claws into Viktor Krum."

"Aren't they cute?"

"Oh yes," said Malfoy, "Whenever I look at them I just feel like gouging my eyes out and stabbing my head with a particularly sharp sword."

"In that case," Lia muttered, "Don't let me stop you. I hope that Hermione's not actually attracted to Krum though," she mused, "She'd be much better with Ron."

"Ron? Why would any one pick –"

"Please don't insult my friends while I'm standing here."

"Fine, fine," he held up his hands, "Go ahead and pretend to be a noble Gryffindor. In the mean time, I need to write my essay."

"I still can't get over the fact that you're here. In the library. Doing homework."

"Well, don't spread the word about it. It would be damaging to my image."

"That might be worrying, if you actually had an image to begin with."

He glanced at her and rolled his eyes, but she could have sworn that she saw his lips curve up into a tiny smile.

Lia mentally shook her head. "I need to go," she said, pointing at Hermione, who had finally stopped talking to Krum, and was standing up, scanning around the room in search of her.

"Have fun with Granger," Malfoy said wryly, picking up his quill.

"I will," she snapped back.

It was not until she was sitting down at the Slytherin table, eating a delicious plate of roast chicken for dinner, that Lia realised she had wasted all of the time she'd had at the library. Drat. She'd have to go back again tomorrow and actually borrow a book. Screw her procrastination. Lia sighed. She'd probably end up having to hole herself up in her dorm just to finish Snape's essay.

She sent a glare at Malfoy when he wasn't looking. If only the jerk hadn't distracted her so much.


	6. The Champions

Lia's next lesson with Professor Moody was just as eventful as her last. Apparently, Mad-Eye and Dumbledore had both decided that they were above the Ministry's rules, and now the class of fourteen-year-olds were having Unforgivable Curses thrown at them. Obviously, it wasn't the Cruciatus or the Killing Curse – thankfully the two wizards hadn't gone that mad yet – but in Lia's eyes it didn't really make the Imperius Curse any better.

If she was honest with herself, she should probably be thankful that Moody wasn't really making them do much under the effects of the incantation - Dean's singing, Lavender's animal mimicry and Neville's astonishing feat of gymnastics, could hardly be considered dangerous. Still, she couldn't deny that finding herself forced to complete acts against her free will bought certain unwanted memories back in her mind. And she was simply awful at Defence Against the Dark Arts now. It was as if after that time in the Chamber of Secrets, she had completely lost her confidence, and each time Moody raised her wand at her, she turned into a mindless, obedient little robot.

It also wasn't helping that Harry was a prodigy at resisting its effects and had managed to fight it off the first time round. Lia sighed. She was probably just going to have to admit that her brother had the superior willpower and mental strength than her. She'd just make it up by trying to thrash him in Transfiguration then.

"Sit down," Tracey said, pulling her into a chair, as Lia ambled towards her, "Dumbledore's about to announce who's been chosen!"

Dumbledore strolled up to the goblet, and with a flick of his wand the ring around it vanished with a poof. He cleared his throat and said in a loud voice, "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for … the champions selection!"

He redirected his wand to the goblet and the blue flame inside flared red, bursting up an explosion of sparks, as a slip of paper flew into his awaiting hand. "The Durmstrang champion is … Viktor Krum!"

There was a roar of cheers from Durmstrang, who had all taken to sitting at the Slytherin table. The noise faded as another name flew out of the fire.

"The champion from Beauxbatons … Fleur Delacour!"

The process was repeated again, as Dumbledore read out the Hogwart's victor.

"The Hogwarts champion... Cedric Diggory."

Tracey gave a little squeak and Lia clapped politely.

"Excellent! We now have our three champions! But in the end only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory - the tri-wizard cup!" Dumbledore said to another round of applause that had broken out.

This time the noise faded again, but for an entirely different reason, as they all realised that the goblet's flames were glowing red again. Another, much longer, slip of paper flew out into Dumbledore's open palm. It was a most curious incident, since everyone knew that ordinarily, there were only meant to be three champions. Was the Goblet broken? They waited with eagerness for Dumbledore's next words.

The headmaster stared at the paper, with the entire room holding their breaths in anticipation. Finally, he read out –

"Harry Potter and Daliah Agorios."

Lia stifled a curse as she met Harry's alarmed eyes, and sucked in a deep, shaky breath. She rubbed a hand at her ear, hoping that she had somehow heard wrong. Tracey was shoving and pinching her now, urging her to stand up.

"What the hell," she muttered, as she pushed herself to her feet, "What the hell."

She grabbed onto Harry's arm as he moved to the centre of the room.

"We both agree that it wasn't either of us that put our names in, right?" Harry whispered frantically to her.

"Of course," Lia replied, listening to the angry murmurs that were already filling up the hall. She raised her voice. "And anyone who thinks we did is obviously a fool, if they believe for one second that us two would be skilled enough to outsmart Dumbledore!"

"Well … through the door, Harry, Lia," Dumbledore said when they finally reached him. He placed the paper in Harry's hand and gestured for them to move forwards.

Lia gulped when she saw the three other competitors. Shadowed by the sizzling fire in the corner, they seemed elongated and even taller, and with their faces obscured, they looked like serial killers in the making. How in the world did they expect two fourteen-year-old kids to be able to compete against them?

There was a bang as Dumbledore burst into the room, followed by the heads of the other two schools. He pinned Lia and Harry to the wall with one hand each.

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore nearly roared at them.

"No sir," Harry gasped out.

"Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?"

"No sir," Lia parroted, trying to wriggle out of his firm grasp.

"You're absolutely sure?" Dumbledore gave them a calculating stare.

"Yes sir," said Harry.

Madame Maxime looked at them coldly, tilting her thin nose into the air. 'Vel, of course zey are lying."

"What's happening?" Cedric asked, looking between her and Harry with bewilderment. Beside him, Krum was scowling and Fleur's brow was furrowed up in a dainty frown. The three older students had missed out on the duo's names flying from the fire, owing to the fact that they'd been waiting in the room ever since they'd been pronounced as champions.

Ludo Bagman, who had been quick in following Dumbledore as he entered, squeezed Lia and Harry on the shoulder. "May I introduce – incredible though it may seem – the fourth group of Triwizard Champions?"

Fleur's frown dissolved, and she smiled prettily, tossing her mane of gold hair over her shoulder. "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, shaking his head. "No, no, not at all! Harry and Lia's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," Fleur said, looking at her headmistress, "Madame Maxime! Zey are saying zat zis little boy and zis little girl is to compete also!"

"Hey!" said Lia. "I'm almost as tall as you." Which was a lie, she'd always been on the short side, even for her age.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" Maxime asked. Lia would have laughed at the way she said Dumbledore, if the woman hadn't pierced her with an icy glare.

"I'd rather like to know that myself," said Karkaroff, whose glued on smile reminded Lia of a sharp knife. "Three Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions, let alone three - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave three champions. It is most injust."

"Mr Crouch … Mr Bagman," said Karkaroff, addressing the two Ministry members. "You are our – er – objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

"The rules are absolute," Barty said, "The goblet of fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr Potter and Miss Agorios have no choice. They are, as of tonight... Twi-Wizard Champions."

Lia gaped. "B-but sir," she stuttered. "We'll be slaughtered out there!"

"Don't fret, Miss Agorios," Barty replied passively, "The games have been carefully designed to eliminate the potential of grave danger. And you will not be competing alone, for I believe that you and your brother are now the first duo competitors in history."

"What?" spluttered many voices at once. Lia's brow scrunched up.

"Mr. Potter and Miss Agorios had their names both written on the same sheet of paper. If they were on separate slips, there would be no other differences. However, seeing as this is not the case, the goblet's magic binds them together, and just as the contract demands that they enter, they are also obliged to form a team."

Lia and Harry gave each other a bemused look. Being a Slytherin, Lia had always preferred independence to team work; and being a Gryffindor, Harry was much too noble to let his sister do any of the riskier tasks. This was going to be interesting.

"Are you sure I can't just resign?" Lia said wearily. "I'm sure Malfoy would want to take my place."

Harry scoffed and some colour returned to his face. "I'm not working with Malfoy."

"Zees is injust," Maxime repeated.

"I'm afraid, as problematic as it may be, that this is definite," said Barty, in a tone that told them all to drop the subject.

They were ushered out of the room and sent back towards their individual common rooms.

"Oh look who it is," Parkinson said as Lia pushed open the stone wall, "Slytherin's champion. Did you finally get sick of standing in Potter's shadow all the time?"

"Not now, Haginson," Lia replied, "I'm not in the mood for your crap."

She scowled. "You know what? I hope you die in those tournaments. No one here would mourn," Parkinson said, showing a row of jagged teeth, "In fact, we'd all be happy to get you off our backs. You're nothing but a whiny little child, who thinks she's so high and mighty, and you know what? Nobody actually likes you. The only ones who tolerate you are doing it just because your father was a Death Eater."

"That's. Enough," she spat out slowly.

"You're just like your mother, a stupid traitor who got herself murdered by her husband's master. How does it feel to be the product of –"

Lia raised her fist and smashed it hard against Pansy's face. There was a stunned silence.

"You bitch!" Pansy yelled, as she clutched at her bleeding nose. "I'll kill you!" She raced forward and wrestled Lia to the ground, pulling out a chunk of Lia's hair, and digging her claws into deep into her arm, scraping down hard. Lia shot out her leg out and booted Pansy in the knee with all the strength she could muster.

Parkinson hissed and snatched at Lia's hair again, this time slapping her across the cheek with her other hand. Lia reached out to jab the other girl in the eyeballs, when she was pulled back roughly.

Zabini's hand was wrapped tight around her collar, whilst Malfoy held Pansy by the arm. She glared at her, and Lia glared back.

After a minute, she wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat, and was alarmed to find a spot of Pansy's blood on it. She glanced at the girl's now slightly crooked nose. Good. She'd broken it.

"Wow," said Zabini.

"As much as I love a good bitch fight," said Malfoy with an amused smirk, "I don't think it would be good if you two destroyed our common room."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Lia snapped, lifting a clutched fist at him.

"Draco," Pansy whined, "Look what she did to me," she pointed at her nose and looked around at the Slytherins. "Well? Isn't anyone going to help me? I just got attacked!"

"To be fair," Zabini said, "Lia doesn't look much better. You're missing a bit of hair," he patted at a bald spot near her part.

"As long as Haginson looks worse, I'm happy."

"That was kind of savage, Lia," Malfoy said, tutting, "You need to work on controlling your temper."

"I didn't ask for your fucking opinion," she said coldly, "I'm going to bed. I hope you rot in hell Parkinson."

"What's her problem?" Lia heard Caroline say as she stomped up the stairs.

"Dunno," said Zabini, "Hey I was wondering –"

The noise faded as Lia slammed shut the door of her room, stepping into the bathroom to wash herself off. It was only then that her anger faded into shame. She really needed to work on her game, she thought, scowling at herself in the mirror. She must be losing it if she was letting Parkinson get to her.

The following morning, Lia found herself just as annoyed as she had been on the last, as an insufferable news reporter with silly, jewelled spectacles and her crew shoved dozens of cameras into her face, nearly rendering her blind with all the never-ending flashing.

"What a charismatic quintet," the woman breathed out, "I'm Rita Skeeter, I write for the daily prophet. But of course you know that, don't you?" she said haughtily, "It's you we don't know, you're the news. What makes a champion tick? Me, myself and I want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers. So, who's feeling up to sharing?" She frowned a little as no one volunteered. "Mmm? Shall we start with the youngest?" The witch glanced over at Harry and then Lia, who was trying to hide herself behind her brother's messy tangle of hair.

Lia pushed Harry forward. "You're younger," she said unapologetically. "My birthday's in June."

Harry glared at her the entire time, as Rita said, "Lovely," and pulled him out of the room.

Lia tried to ignore the awkward silence that followed, and pretended to be oblivious to the fact that the other champions were burning holes into her back, like their eyes had miraculously turned into lasers.

She lasted approximately five minutes, before she found that she could not stand it anymore, and her patience snapped. "What?" she barked out, "Did I suddenly sprout another head?"

"Vat is your age, little girl?" Fleur asked her in a graceful yet hard voice.

"Uh … fourteen?" Lia replied hesitantly.

"I thot zat you vere twelve," said Fleur, with her fine eyebrows raised up.

"Well I'm not," she shot back stonily, a little offended.

"You're Ron's friend right? I met you at the Quidditch Cup … You must be a pretty talented kid if you managed to put your name in the Goblet," said Cedric.

Lia scowled. "First off, don't call me kid, you're literally only three years older than me. And secondly, how many times do I have to say this? I. Didn't. Put. My. Name. In."

Krum gave her a hard stare. "I don't believe you," he grunted.

"Why would I want to die?" Lia said grimacing. "I'm not looking for glory. I've got enough of that with Harry around. And if I wanted to be rich, I'd just break into my brother's Gringotts account. God knows he has enough money for two lifetimes as it is."

"But who else would put your name in?"

Lia shrugged. "I wish I knew. Moody said that whoever did might be looking to kill Harry again. He has a sort of blaring target on the back of his head, you know? Being the Boy-Who-Lived and all that jazz." She groaned at the sceptical looks on all their faces.

"Look, if I actually wanted to enter this tournament in the first place, don't you think I'd wait a few years, when I'd actually learnt enough spells and crap to be able to match all you Seventh Years? And besides, I would hardly voluntarily choose to be on a team with Harry. It'll be a miracle if I don't end up accidentally murdering him before the First Task even finishes."

Fleur opened her full lips, just as Rita Skeeter re-entered the room with a satisfied beam. Beside her, Harry was looking less than pleased and his face was set in a sulky frown. He wriggled against the news reporter's grasp, as if desperately wishing to escape.

"Such a darling," Rita said, looking down at Harry, "Who's next?"

Harry, who still hadn't forgiven Lia for offering him up as a sacrifice, said, "Lia's the second youngest here", just as she stamped hard on his foot.

"Wonderful." The woman tugged her all the way down into a … broom cupboard.

"Why here?" Lia asked, giving the witch a quizzical look.

"It's cosy," she replied with a plastered on smile, "You don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill do you?"

Lia looked at the already rapidly scribbling thing with healthy skepticism, and tried to peer over at the already lined parchment. "Can't you handwrite?"

Rita ignored her and cleared her throat. "Now, Lia, why don't we start with the burning question? Whatever possessed you, a juvenile girl of only twelve years old –"

"Fourteen!" Lia interjected, scowling. "Just because I'm short," she muttered under her breath.

"- With seemingly average magical abilities, to enter such a dangerous tournament as this?" she finished.

Who was she calling average? Lia's cheek twitched, as she attempted to shove down and smooth out her ruffled feathers. "The simple answer is that I didn't."

"Pardon me?" Rita asked, still smiling like a plastic doll.

"I didn't enter. I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire."

"Of course," Rita said, winking at her, "But between you and me, we both know that you've always been the rather rebellious, unruly type."

"Excuse me?"

"I've got a confession from a lovely young witch that you have a tendency to … hmm … how to put it delicately? Well assault others I suppose? Apparently you broke her nose without any justification. And she claims that you possess a recklessness that probably stems from Harry Potter's influence," she gazed at the blood rising in Lia's face, "Oh now, don't look so upset. Readers love a rebel."

"Don't listen to anything Parkinson says," Lia snapped, "And I'm nothing more than a typical student who got herself unwilling stuck in this stupid tournament," she looked warily at the quill, "You better write that down."

Rita clasped her hands together. "Come now dear, let us drop these pretences. Was this a plot hatched between you and Harry? He being the one yearning for danger and glory, and you being the poor mastermind in desire of much-needed prize money?"

Lia felt the sudden urge to defend her brother. "Harry doesn't seek out danger," she said angrily, "Danger finds him. And I might not be richest person alive, but I still have dignity. And even I'm not desperate enough to get myself fucking killed for something as silly as money."

"Well," Rita said with a smile that was beginning to waver, "Let's not use that sort of language, hmm? We can move on? What do you think your parents would feel knowing that you've entered this tournament? Proud? Worried? Sources tell me that your father was a Death Eater himself. Do you think it was this sort of dark influence that made you seek out this psychotic death wish?"

"I didn't seek it out!" Lia yelled furiously, "Bloody hell. I'm finished." She stood up, and as she did she caught sight of what Skeeter's quill had written:

 _'An interview with Harry Potter's self proclaimed 'sister', Daliah Agorios - another entrant to the tournament, who is naught but a mere girl of twelve - reveals to me the obvious malicious and sinister nature lurking under those innocent golden eyes. With an arrogance that far outweighs her own talents, she informs me of her particularly dark heritage – being born from a Death Eater father and a supposed traitor mother.'_

"What is that bullshit?" Lia said slowly.

Rita's face fell and she hastily moved to roll up the parchment, but Lia was faster. With a quick swipe of her hand she held the article between her fingers, and tore it down the middle with fury. Her hands kept moving until the paper was nothing but a few tattered scraps drifting to the floor.

The reporter stared in shock for a second, and then her face flared up with indignation. "How dare you!" she yelled in a high-pitched voice. Taking a deep breath, she rearranged her features and trying to keep her voice calm, said coldly, "No matter. I think we're done here."

Lia stormed back into the room where the other champions were waiting. Harry gave her a sympathetic look. "Did it go badly as well?" he asked.

"She's a lying, vile snake," Lia spat out, not caring that Rita was only a few feet behind her.

Rita gave her a stony smile and urged Fleur forwards to her interview.

"I don't think she likes you very much," said Cedric.

"Do I look like I give a damn?" she replied, and swerving around to leave, stormed all the way back down the corridor to her next class.


	7. Potter Stinks

"Ron's still not talking to you, huh?" Lia asked delicately, as she walked next to Harry through the courtyard. There was a soft breeze wafting through the air, and a cluster of yellowing leaves drifted down from the overhead trees with each rhythm of their steps.

Harry shook his head bitterly. "Yeah," he said through gritted teeth, the tone sharp, "He's being an idiot."

Lia glanced over at him and contemplated her next words, trying to channel her inner wisdom. "Well, sometimes it is hard being around you, you know? You're kind of like … like a beacon that sucks in so much attention. Not that that's a bad thing," she added, "I'd rather be invisible than have to put up with some of the crap you do." She made a weird coughing noise that sounded vaguely like 'Creevey'.

"What about the Slytherins? What do they think?" he asked her glumly,

She shrugged. "Tracey knows I'd have to be half mad to put my name in. The others are just pissed that I 'chose' to enter with you and not them. Like I'm some sort of traitor … but who gives a damn? Parkinson's calling me an attention seeking whore. That's nothing new. And Malfoy … I don't even know what goes on in his mind. He won't stop complaining about you. Moron thinks that you put my name in."

"Great," said Harry sullenly, "At least you're not getting ignored by everyone."

Lia nudged him hard in the side. "Cheer up. I'm not ignoring you," she shot him a cheeky grin, "So … what's our plan of attack?"

"For what?"

"For the first task, idiot!"

"How am I supposed to know?" he groaned.

Lia looked at him with frustration and said mildly, "We're going to die."

Harry stumbled, dropping his books to the ground, and Lia bent down to help him pick them up. "Let's just go," he muttered, "We've got to go to Care of Magical Creatures, so we can talk about this later."

"Fine."

A few seconds later she mentally groaned as she caught sight of another student wearing a 'Potter Stinks' badge. Lia grabbed onto Harry's shoulders and steered him in the opposite direction, before his mood soured even more. That turned out to be a bad decision as she caught sight of Malfoy perched up in a tree. What the hell was he doing up there?

"Why so tense, Potter?" he called out with a sneer, "My father and I have a bet you see. I don't think you're gonna last ten minutes in this tournament." With a thump, he swung himself down from the branch and smirked at Harry, with his cronies beside him. "He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five."

Lia rolled her eyes, and tugged on Harry's arm to leave, but he stayed rooted to the ground. "Come on," she hissed, "It's just Malfoy being a dick as per usual."

Harry ignored her, and Lia saw the anger rushing up his face. "I don't give a damn what you or your father thinks, Malfoy," he spat out, "He's vile and cruel, and you're just pathetic!"

"Right," she said, turning him around before a full blown war was waged, "Let's go cool off."

There was a slight rustle as Malfoy drew his hand into his pockets and plucked out his wand, preparing to cast a spell at Harry whilst he was unconscious of his surroundings. Lia pushed him to the side, just as Moody burst into the courtyard.

"I'll teach you to cast a spell when someone's back is turned!" he snapped angrily, and with a swish of his own wand, Malfoy transformed into a rather – as much as she hated to admit it - adorable, snow white ferret.

Lia watched with delighted bewilderment as Malfoy the Ferret flew up and down with each flick of Moody's wand, and she almost fainted from laughter as he was shoved into Crabbe's pants.

Hearing the noisy sniggers, Professor McGonagall strolled swiftly towards them, and although she was not yet aware that it was actually Malfoy, she eyed the 'ferret' with caution. "Professor Moody," she exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

"Teaching." Moody grinned as Malfoy did a three-sixty-degree flip in the air.

"Is … is that a student?" McGonagall asked with a paling face.

"Technically it's a ferret."

The comment sparked Lia into another burst of chuckling, and she placed her hands on her knees to calm herself. McGonagall looked between her and Moody with a blend of vexation and disapproval.

Pursing her lips, she waved her wand and with a flash, the ferret turned back into an extremely annoyed and very dishevelled Malfoy. "Miss Agorios," McGonagall said coolly, "Please escort Mr. Malfoy up to Madam Pomfrey." With an unimpressed stare at Moody, she added, "Human transfiguration can be a nasty business, and it is imperative to ensure that there are no … unwanted side effects."

Lia couldn't help but smile at Malfoy, whose face was lined from anger, and whose fists were clenched into tight balls. "My father will hear about this!" he roared.

"Malfoy seems normal to me," Lia said smirking. But under McGonagall's discontent glare, she tugged on his arm, and pulled him down the corridor.

As they departed, she heard McGonagall chastising Moody. "We never use transfiguration as a punishment," she said sharply, "Surely Dumbledore told you that."

There was a sudden bang as Malfoy collided into the stone wall of the corridor. "I don't need to go to the hospital wing!" he hissed, pulling away from her firm grasp. "What I need, is to send a letter to my father." His fists shook violently.

"Calm down," Lia said, "You're fine anyway. And if anything, that was a bit of entertainment."

"Entertainment!" he roared, "That was … that was … blatant abuse!"

"It was funny," she said smiling.

Malfoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the blood fading from his face a little. "I'm going back to the common room," he said.

"Fine ignore McGonagall's orders. And skip class. Why do you always have to be such a dick all the time anyway?"

"You should look at Potter before you ask me that question again."

"Meaning what exactly?"

The words burst out of Malfoy's mouth. "He put your name in the goblet, and he's going to get the two of you killed!" His eyes met Lia's bemused gaze, and he quickly diverted it to the window.

Lia crossed her arms and frowned. "I'm telling you Malfoy! My brother didn't enter us in!"

"Don't be so naïve. Potter just wants the attention, that's all he ever cares about," Malfoy spat, "Brave and noble Harry Potter." He cursed at the ground. "The Boy Who Lived."

"Still jealous I see?"

"No," he said whilst he took a deep breath in and momentarily closed his lids. "I just don't understand. How do you plan on surviving the tasks, Lia?"

She wrung out her hands. "I haven't figured it out yet … but I will."

He looked at her for a long, long time, and Lia looked back, trying to read into his eyes, but they were as shielded as they were unreadable.

"You're going to die," he said finally, the tone curt, as if he were simply remarking on how jolly good the weather was.

She bit down hard on her lip. Despite the fact that she'd been telling Harry the exact same thing mere minutes ago, Lia's frustration and worry overtook her rational side. "For gods sake!" she yelled, taking out all her fear and confusion on him, "You're making me more anxious than I already am!" she jammed a finger in his chest, "I'll work it out okay? It can't even be that dangerous, Mr. Crouch said so himself. So stop worrying."

Malfoy met her glare and growled, "The fact that I'm actually worrying should be cause enough for you to drop out of that tournament already! Why are still going through with this? Look, if you need the money that bad, you only need to ask me."

"I don't need money!" she replied with burning cheeks and a strong distaste for Malfoy's opinion of her.

"Yeah right," he scoffed, "I heard you're even tutoring Zabini that disgusting, filthy -" He followed with a string of insults so horrible that even Lia felt as if she should cover her ears.

When Malfoy had proceeded to comparing Blaise with some particularly foul beasts, Lia couldn't stand it anymore and snapped, "Don't call him that. He's been perfectly pleasant so far. Far more pleasant than the likes of you."

"I'm sure he has," he retorted dryly, and without thinking, added cynically, "The only reason he's even talking to you is to get back at me." He seemed to regret the words as soon as he said them, and closed his lips as if he wished to shove them straight back in. But they'd already been uttered, and the damage inflicted.

Lia took a step back and gaped at him. Malfoy's forehead creased more and more as the seconds ticked by. Scowling, Lia swerved around to leave, but he clutched at her wrist and spun her back round.

"I'm sorry, Lia," he groaned, "I didn't mean that. Okay, maybe I did. But I should have phrased it better."

"Phrased it better?" she echoed, indignant, "For your information, the world does _not_ resolve around you!"

"I'm only asking you to be careful about this … in fact, be careful with everything. Blaise and the tournament included."

"And I suppose I should be careful of you as well?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow with her lips drawn into a tight line.

She had no idea of the reason behind it, but Malfoy gave her a ferocious but blazing smile, and a strand of his pale blond hair fell into his eyes as he let out a slightly derisive chuckle.

When his gaze fell on her once more, she was pierced by the intensity flaring in the molten silver, and she instinctively tried to take a step back, but found that she couldn't, not from lack of trying, but because she was rooted in place by the emotion, so vivid yet to her so inscrutable, that was plastered on Malfoy's face.

He reached out and twirled a strand of her dark hair between his nimble fingers, his breath hot and tingly on her cheek. "I'm on your side," he murmured, "I'll always be on your side, Lia," he paused, as his lips grew closer to her bare skin, "… But yes. You should be careful of me. You should be very careful."

And with that he drew apart, leaving Lia with a traitorous feeling of dissatisfaction in her stomach.

"What the hell does that mean?" She finally took the much needed step away from him.

But Malfoy was already smoothing back his hair as if nothing had ever happened, and he pretended not to hear her queries. "You should check the Daily Prophet," he said over his shoulder as he strolled away, "There's a lovely new article about you." The prick left without so much as a goodbye.

She picked up her satchel, which had somehow unnoticeably fallen off during her and Malfoy's conversation, and walked in the opposite direction towards Care of Magical Creatures. Her stomach seemed to be swirling with one hundred emotions – the only one of which she could properly identify, was frustration. But was she frustrated at Malfoy? ... Or at herself?

* * *

 _In our latest interview with Harry Potter's self proclaimed 'sister', Daliah Agorios - another entrant to the tournament, who is naught but a mere girl of twelve - the malicious and sinister nature lurking under her innocent golden eyes has become unmistakably obvious. Possessing an arrogance that many believe to outweigh her own talents, Daliah, also nicknamed 'Lia', informed us of her particularly dark heritage – being born from a Death Eater father and a supposed traitor mother._

 _A thirst for violence is rumoured to linger in her, which could possibly be inherited from her above mentioned father, although upon research, no further information could be found on the identity of her deceased parents. However, a source revealed to us that Lia has been the perpetrator of many acts of aggression, which have landed multiple students in the hospital wing, an act that has not skipped the notice of her peers._

 _"She's quite monstrous sometimes," a young witch disclosed to us with visibly frazzled nerves, "People are afraid of her because she's got Harry all wrapped around her finger, and she strolls around as if she owns the place, not hesitating to curse those who get on her bad side. In reality, she's nothing more than a spoiled brat, and I suppose she entered this tournament because everyone's always known that her brother was far better than her. She's constantly desperate for attention. It's worrying."_

 _The question we are all asking now, is what will happen next? It is with great excitement and yet slight concern, that we await the next moves of this dangerous duo._

"You should be proud," Tracey said grinning, whilst she read the paper that Lia had thrown onto the table. "You got quite a few paragraphs dedicated to you."

"I would be if they were good paragraphs. That evil Skeeter woman makes me look like some crazy demon girl, that's flown straight up from the pits of hell!"

"You do look a bit devilish today. Is that horns I see sprouting?"

"Shut up."

"I wonder who the undisclosed source is? Pansy, maybe? She's young, she's a witch, and most importantly, she does hate you."

Lia shook her head. "Dunno. But it doesn't really seem like her … Pansy wouldn't say that Harry's better than me, she'd be too focused on listing all of my never-ending bad qualities."

"True." Tracey chopped her egg on toast into smaller pieces and chewed a slice in her mouth. "I think Harry's looking for you," she said, pointing at her brother, who was scanning up and down the Slytherin table for her face.

Lia wrapped a croissant in a serviette and walked over to him. "What is it?"

"Remember how you asked me what our game plan for the First Task was?" he whispered back, "I think I have an idea. We need to talk. In private."

"So," she said, "What's the big deal?" They were hiding in one of the smaller, deserted corridors.

"Dragons."

"Pardon?"

"That's the First Task. Dragons."

Lia's jaw dropped. "You're kidding me."

"I wish I was." Harry twirled his wand between his fingers, waiting for her reaction.

She swore. "Dragons! But … I thought they said they were keeping the tasks not dangerous this year? How is being burned alive safe?"

"I talked to Moody and he thought I should –"

"Wait, back up. How do you even know that it's dragons in the first place? You're not just guessing right? This isn't some special Pottery intuition of yours?"

"No! Uh … Hagrid showed me."

"Hagrid showed you? The dragons? When? Without me?"

Harry scratched his neck and looked away from her, kicking at a small stone on the ground. "Yeah, last night … I guess he just maybe sort of forgot that you were in the competition too?"

Lia sighed. Trust. "Course he did. Well, what did Moody tell you?"

"… He thinks that I should fly."

She snorted. "What? Sprout wings and shoot up into the clouds?"

"No! I'm being serious. The plan is for me to use my wand and summon my broomstick, and then while I fly around distracting the dragon, you have the much less dangerous task of grabbing the egg."

"Sound simple enough," she commented after a second, "Sounds too good to be true."

He waved a hand at her and tried to say with confidence, "We'll be fine."

"We better be."

* * *

It was not for the first time that Lia found herself storming up to Draco Malfoy's smirking face again. Angry. She was always angry these days.

"You made the badges didn't you!" she hissed with an unpleasant expression, pointing accusingly at him.

She could vaguely hear the chirp of birds in the distance. Previously, they had been drowned out by Malfoy's annoying voice, but now it was silent as he stared dumbly at her for a moment. Lia sent him another glare, and he finally shrugged, rolling his eyes, and with a flick of his hands he ordered his crowd of companions to scamper off. "I don't know what you're talking about. Be more specific?"

"The 'Potter Stinks' badges. You made them!"

He shrugged again, carelessly. "So what if I did? Do you like them?" he grinned. "Bet you think the charm was very clever. Took me a while too, to get that brilliant shade of green."

"You must have no life," she said curtly, "Is the sole purpose of your existence to make me and Harry miserable?"

Malfoy's grin faded and his voice became graver and defensive. "Hey! I didn't spell out your name on the badges. The other Slytherins might think badly of you for still going through the tournament with Potter, but personally, I'm rooting for you." He chuckled at her shock. "I told you before Lia. I might detest Potter, but I rather like you. As mean as you are, you're different, funny in your own way, I guess. Like my own little cobra."

"Shut up," she snapped. "Your opinion isn't appreciated."

He smirked. "Okay then. Not too angry now are you?"

"I'm always calm," she said, and then sighed, shaking her head. "Why do you always feel the need to torment my brother?"

Malfoy looked at her like she'd asked what grass was. "Why do cats hate dogs?"

"… That's not the point … Besides, they don't always," she pointed out. "Back when I was little, I knew a pair that got along quite well. Can't you be like that? Can't you be polite? Or at least try to?"

He gave her an almost condescending look, as if pitying her for being so naïve. "It's not in my nature," he said in a drawl, and seemed to stiffen and freeze a little. "Honestly, I don't see why you're always standing up for Potter - he's not worth it … And anyway, before you go about snapping at me me, why don't you talk to him first? If I hate Potter like a cat hates a dog, then he hates me like … well, I'd be the North Pole and he'd be the South."

"Nice analogy," she replied dryly.

Malfoy pretended not to hear her and he met her eyes for a moment, searching for something, the focus and force in which he examined her making her exceedingly uncomfortable. But he must have found what he was looking for - his face split into a devilish smile and any frost lingering in his expression melted.

"You know what?" he said, full of mirth. "I'm going to steal you away from him."

"What?"

He laughed. "I'm going to corrupt you. That's what Potter thinks is happening every time we speak, isn't it? That I'm staining your innocent little soul with my evil? Well, one of these days, I'll make you like me more than you like Potter. And then I'll see what the wonderful Boy-Who-Lived has to say then."

"I'm not some puppet to be played with!" Her brow furrowed and a muscle twitched in her cheek. "And I'll never choose you before Harry!"

He took a step towards her suddenly. Lia found with unease, that she had become frighteningly accustomed to having Malfoy's body near hers – so much so that her shoulders no longer tensed anymore, and instead appeared to fall down, the muscles relaxing. She needed to start pushing him away, like any other respectable girl would have done, but she was rooted to the spot by that foolish part of her brain again. It was even greater alarm that she realised that, just as Malfoy tilted his head down towards her, she was stepping up towards him.

At the last minute, Malfoy turned his face. "Don't speak too soon," he whispered in her ear. Smirking, he left her standing there with her flaming cheeks and faintly parted lips.

* * *

A/N:

That was a lot of fun to write! Please review and let me know what you think xx


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